


we drew a map to a better place

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blasé Mentions of Non-Religious Hell, Horror Elements, Limited Romance Mostly Confusion, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multiple Warnings, Non-Graphic Descriptions of Major Injury, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: With Baekhyun in the passenger seat, Jongdae drives to the end of the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS - No archive warnings apply, but please assume an “author chose not to use warnings” tag for anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To explain why this story is the way it is, it started out as a personal goal to write as many horror clichés as I could into a single fic, and evolved into this strange pursuit of a plotless bunny.
> 
> I have high hopes of editing and fixing this story one day, but in the meantime I hope you'll be able to find something of it to enjoy.

Driving down a road to nowhere following rumours of salvation was a taxing job. Continuing to do so, when the first two attempts had turned up empty was even harder.

A bone-deep exhaustion simmered under every inch of Jongdae’s skin. The fog engulfed them for miles into the marshes, and in the darkness, Jongdae could barely see two feet in front of him.

In the passenger seat, Baekhyun was curled up in their blankets and fast asleep, having driven for nine hours before in a race to get them amongst the reeds before sunset. In some way, it made Jongdae think of the road trips they always watched in movies, before cars became a smuggled commodity that cost three livers and then some.

But this movie was far from the lazy summer ones Jongdae so often watched on screen. There was no falling in love in backseats and making out with the sunset reflected in the rearview mirror. Instead the colors of sunset were painted across Jongdae’s skin, bruises that wouldn’t fade with the night.

A sudden shower battered against the windshield, reducing visibility to zero. For a moment, Jongdae was tempted to let Baekhyun sleep, and continue the drive by himself.

“Baekhyun.” Jongdae croaked, slowing his driving to a stop so he could jostle Baekhyun’s knee. Baekhyun whimpered, protesting, and Jongdae curled himself up in the front seat. It could be so easy.

Five minutes later, he tried again.

This time, Baekhyun rose, but he did so slowly, blanket wrapped tightly over his shoulders. Baekhyun was always cold when he woke up as of late. It clung to him for hours afterwards, even when the sun was high in the sky, scorching against Jongdae’s sunburnt skin.

“It’s your turn to drive.” Jongdae said.

“I can’t.” Baekhyun said hoarsely. His eyes were puffy, blood crusted over his temple. He’d caught the skin just in time.

“Let’s park, then.”

“We _can’t_.” Baekhyun tried to climb over, but Jongdae pushed him back.

“We have to.” Jongdae said. “I have to sleep, Baekhyun. I can’t do this for another week, and neither can you.”

Baekhyun exhaled. He’d rolled his window down, letting the cold droplets of rain shock him into wakefulness. His head hung out the window, an open target for all the things they would never see coming, and Jongdae shivered. 

“Close it, Baekhyun, I’m freezing. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

“The water’s been rising.” Baekhyun commented.

“I know.” Jongdae said, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel.

“If we sleep, we’ll lose the road. We might lose the car.”

“I know.” Jongdae couldn’t look at him. The water had been rising steadily for the last hour now. Jongdae should have pulled the car aside, but he hadn’t. Maybe some part of him hoped the water would keep them safe.

The last time Jongdae made an impulsive decision while this exhausted, they’d stolen a car and two one-way tickets out of the city. He’s starting to think that all his sleep-deprived decisions lead him the same way.

Skins couldn’t swim, but neither could Jongdae.

Baekhyun’s soft exhale was devastating.

“Just a little longer. We’ve a week to go.” Baekhyun said. “We’re going to make it, Jongdae.”

“What if we get there and there’s nothing? Again? Like how we _made it_ to the last two places and there was nothing? Or worse, a den! Did you like getting your throat ripped to shreds? Because _I sure loved_ stringing you back together and not knowing if—” Jongdae’s throat felt like he’d taken a swig of glass, but when he spoke, the only thing that hurt was his heart.

Baekhyun’s arms and blanket swooped over him, blocking out the light, keeping Jongdae in a sightless, warm cocoon.

“We’re almost out of gas. Out of water. Out of bandages.” Jongdae choked out. “I’m sorry. I’m tired, Baekhyun. I really thought we’d find a way out.”

Baekhyun hummed softly, rubbing his palm against Jongdae’s back. He didn’t speak, but let Jongdae piece himself together again. Jongdae always did.

“You really want to stop?” Baekhyun whispered, once Jongdae’s shaking subsided. 

“We’ll drown if we keep going.” Jongdae said. “Pull over. We’ll sleep and keep going tomorrow.”

There was no sense in keeping watch. They’d tried it, when they first escaped the city following nothing but a myth of paradise. But no matter how careful they were, danger always lurked two steps ahead, and in the end it had been useless to try, too fatigued to run or fight back even if something came. 

At this point, if something came for them, there probably wasn’t anything they could do.

“This is such a stupid decision.” Baekhyun said. “I love you.” He added. Jongdae raised his thumb to Baekhyun’s cheeks, swiping away the tears he knew he would find there.

“I love you too.” Jongdae whispered. Outside, a bird hooted. Skins never really liked birds— their stiff feathers were too difficult to swallow. Jongdae always wondered why bones should be any easier to take.

He let Baekhyun guide him into the backseat. The engine started with a soft sputter, and Jongdae closed his eyes.

☼

The sun was high in the sky when Jongdae woke. His entire body ached, and he felt a permanent bruise on his hip where someone’s elbows had set camp the night before. But Baekhyun had moved up front, turned towards Jongdae with his legs tucked beneath him.

“Good morning.” He said fondly. “Despite the one very reckless decision we made last night, we’re both in one piece.” 

Baekhyun looked better, the dark circles beneath his eyes a little less puffy. Jongdae wanted to reach out and touch him, but his skin felt raw, like it would hurt if he did. He scrubbed his eyes and looked out the car instead.

The sky was a clear, sunny blue, distant cattails dancing gently in the morning breeze. The tide had fallen, leaving behind shallow pools of water, and the sandy shores glistened beneath the sun. An egret stalked across the sand, chasing a slippery, silver fish.

“Wow.”

“Nice, huh?” Baekhyun rolled his shoulders back. “Our car’s wrecked though.”

“Does it not start?”

Baekhyun raised his blood-crusted eyebrow and shook his head.

Jongdae couldn’t tell how high the water had risen in the night, but it had been high enough to deal some damage, last night.

There was a pool at the bottom of his seat, and Jongdae grimaced. If there was one thing Jongdae knew about cars, it was that saltwater and engines were a fatal combination.

“It’s fine.” He told Baekhyun. “We’re fine.”

Their bags were already packed, when Jongdae looked around for his water bottle. He pulled the flask from his pack, taking a long swallow. Their journal, stuck with maps and a half-a-year’s worth of research, was sitting in Baekhyun’s lap. 

They could keep going.

 ☼ 

It took them until mid-afternoon to follow the shallow channels upstream and to solid land. By then, water had once again started filling the potholes, crabs scuttling past their feet and towards the ocean. The plants grew denser and richer, and eventually they deemed themselves safely beyond the tide levels.

Jongdae caught a couple of fishes and started a small fire on the bank. He cooked a late lunch and brought it to Baekhyun, hunched over the maps where Jongdae had left him, his clothes crispy-dried under the sun while he worked.

“Funny story.” Baekhyun said, looking up as Jongdae arrived. “I think we’re in hell.”

☼

 When the world first ended, people were at a loss for what to do. Cities grew infested with beasts, creatures with nothing but malice between their teeth and blood strung between their fingertips. Entire cities fled and started anew elsewhere, but wherever they went, the devils would follow. For years it continued in that vein, communities rising and crashing to the ground, destruction spanning across every inch of the earth, no stone left unturned.

They’d tried islands, cut-off from the rest of the world, boats that would take only the strongest, fittest of the lot. But still sickness spread quickly and human nature did the rest, the islands became graveyards and gradually there were no longer any illusions of sanctuary.

In the end, some sort of a balance was struck. People returned to the city, overrun with creatures, and with their best efforts, they _lived_. There was danger, but there always had been, even before the world ended. You kept your head down low, your fingers crossed, and somehow, it was possible to survive.

There were schools, and weddings, and nine-to-five jobs, and Jongdae could knife a demon with his hands tied behind his back, but he also had other things to worry about, like scholarships and making rent and finding the one sock that always went missing in the dryer.

He met Baekhyun during their second year of college, and it was the best thing that ever happened to him. He’d asked Baekhyun out to dinner a few weeks later, and halfway through a pizza with an alarming amount of pineapples, a skin had burst through the glass windows and swallowed the pinball machine whole.

After the IFA had gotten two separate statements and the medical team cleaned them of glass fragments, Baekhyun kissed Jongde underneath the flickering neon sign reading ‘milkshakes & wine.’ The ground was gross and sticky with blood and there was a watching crowd three feet away, but Baekhyun still kissed Jongdae like he was the happiest person alive, and all things considered, it had been a very successful first date.

Two years later, Jongdae’s brother proposed to his college sweetheart. Jongdae hadn’t seen a skin for all of a week, until the day of the wedding.

Bloodstains were fucking impossible to get out of a rented tuxedo.

It had been a long time since people built communities in the wild, but there would always be the few who tried. There had to be a way, they insisted. Somewhere the creatures would not, or could not, follow. They spoke of paradise, the barren land the devils had left behind, and the one place they would never return to.

They called it hell.

☼

 Hell was a misnomer. No one believed they could actually get there with a car and a map, but in whispered circles on the internet, there were promised lands as good as the real thing. Hundreds of miles where people could walk, without fear of death.

“I’m not sure which one we’re in.” Baekhyun said, running his hand through his hair. “#H4 was the closest, but it’s over a week away. How would we find something else now?”

Jongdae fed him another piece of fish, crouching down beside Baekhyun to study the map. They’d colored in each of the rumored havens in different colors, and if #H4 hadn’t worked out, they’d have moved on to #H6, the district outlined in bright yellow.

The rest of the map was struck out. Ruins, they’d found. Among other things.

Baekhyun caught his expression without even looking at him.

“#H2 wasn’t that bad, was it.” Baekhyun said. “We’d be okay if we could find another one like that.”

A ghost town, without the ghosts. For two weeks, they’d slept in the mayor’s bed, swapped out all their old clothing, and ate through the canned meals they found in someone’s grimy basement. There had been potato chips, and chocolate, and even a bag of rice.

“Okay.” Jongdae conceded. “It isn’t that awful here either. There’s plenty of fish, and I saw a couple of ducks going the other way. Maybe we discovered new land. We could be the first to settle down here.”

Baekhyun shook his head, amused. He folded the maps back into the journal and stood. “Let’s hang around to see if there are any skins before sticking a flag in the ground, yeah?”

☼

 There was nothing funny about discovering uncharted land. Days passed. They walked along the river, the scenery unchanging no matter how many twists and turns they tried to take in the road, a landscape of nothing but water, reeds and sky. Where they’d driven before, there had always been signs of civilization, however ruined: a barn with its ceiling caved in, a couch on a fragment of sidewalk, sunken telephone wires.

Here, there was nothing.

There were fishes, and hares if they looked hard enough. Once, Jongdae had run into a deer, fangs protruding from a tiny mouth that had Jongdae drawing his knife. For a moment, they stood there, gazing at each other, unmoving, then the deer scampered off with a loud splash and quick flick of its hind legs. Jongdae never saw one again, fanged or otherwise. 

When it rained there was nowhere to seek shelter. The already muddy sand grew worse, sucking their boots deep into the wet ground, and Baekhyun temporarily removed his shoes for their treks until a frightened crab clawed into his foot.

They slept curled together on dry earth by the river, rousing whenever the water rose on a whim, and slept some more. Baekhyun’s heartbeat grew ragged beneath Jongdae’s ear, and sometimes Jongdae forgot what it felt like to be able to breathe.

There were no skins, but some nights the noises they heard from the marshes around them were just as terrifying. Hollow laughter, and birds calling to one another in eerie, melodic hoots. When they were very quiet, Jongdae could hear the clear sound of something cutting through the water, could see the reeds parting to let it through.

Nearly a week into their journey, a loud noise woke Jongdae from dreamless sleep. The plastic blanket they employed to keep themselves dry crinkled noisily as he sat up. It was morning, but it wasn’t why Jongdae had woken— Jongdae folded the blanket over Baekhyun’s sleeping form, listening for the sound again.

It started as a low hum, barely discernable over the sound of insects chirping, but Jongdae honed in on it, picking out the growing rumble. It sounded exactly like a car engine coming to life.

A horn honked loudly.

Jongdae scrambled to his feet, heart leaping up to his throat. Baekhyun was stirring behind him, but Jongdae had no time to explain. The noise had come from the grasses to their immediate left, where Jongdae knew a small path sat, just wide enough for the tiniest of cars. He pulled the reeds back and lunged through them—

The road was empty.

Jongdae scanned the road desperately. There were no signs of tire tracks on the ground, and the landscape was as desolate as it had ever been.

A frog swam up to Jongdae’s foot and hopped onto his shoe.

Jongdae was about to shake it off when it made an impossible noise in its throat, the muted thud of a door slamming shut.

Jongdae froze, foot raised in mid-air.

“Was that you?” He asked suspiciously.

The frog swallowed, and made the noise of an engine revving.

“Jongdae?” Baekhyun’s voice asked. He came through the grass, plastic tarp folded up and Jongdae’s pack over one shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Well, there’s a frog that sounds like an asshole over here.” Jongdae said, lowering his foot.

Baekhyun snorted.

The frog looked up at him and immediately mimicked the sound.

“Huh.” Baekhyun said.

Two days later, they picked up a puppy, paddling along a sandy bank. It was a scruffy little thing, and looked like it would be blown away in the smallest gust of wind.

Baekhyun fished it out of the water with Jongdae’s cap, and put it in his backpack beside the frog. He christened the puppy Mongryong the Second, and belatedly dubbed the frog Mongryong the Third.

Jongdae, who had no opinion one way or another, scratched beneath the ears of the puppy and asked, “How did you get here, little one?”

“I’m _hungry_.” The frog said, in a perfect imitation of Baekhyun’s voice. 

“I’ll make dinner.” Jongdae said rolling his eyes, and caught Baekhyun grinning at him.

☾

 Baekhyun carried the frog ( _sorry, Baekhyun, Mongryong the Third_ ) around with them in a clear ziploc, shaking it periodically as though it was a belligerent radio he was trying to tune. The frog in turn was happy to entertain as long as it was fed, and let out a variety of noises, including the creepiest yet, the distinct struggle of someone gasping for breath.

“Don’t do that.” Jongdae said, batting the frog into the water after the third consecutive night of waking up afraid that Baekhyun was choking to death beside him. Baekhyun wasn’t even beside Jongdae, and as he rescued Baekhyun’s live radio from the water, Jongdae squinted in the darkness.

In the plastic bag, the frog let out a choking gasp.

“Stop it.” Jongdae hissed.

“Baekhyun?” Jongdae called softly. He gathered their things, always packed in case they needed to move in a hurry, and Baekhyun burst through the grass, yanking Jongdae to his feet.

“We have to go, Jongdae, come! I saw a light, and it— there was a boy—”

“There’s— what?” Jongdae said, struggling to keep up with Baekhyun’s frenzied running. Mongryong the Second ran around underfoot, yipping in excitement.

“This way!” Baekhyun said. He stopped, and Jongdae crashed into his back.

There was an orb of light floating in the distance. It was a boy with a lantern on a stick, doggedly making his way through the grass. Even in places where the grass was too tall and swallowed him whole, they could see the swaying lantern.

The boy saw them and bolted.

Chasing after the boy would have been impossible a week ago, but Jongdae had a much better grasp of how to navigate the marshes now, such as what sorts of plants signaled deep water, and which ones could be used as a shortcut. Baekhyun kept up close behind him, and they ran, following the lantern bobbing in and out of the grass.

Reeds turned to shrubs, dense foliage leaving cuts and scratches on his legs. The clouds drifted, taking every last shred of moonlight behind its veil, leaving them with nothing but the glow of the lantern to light their way.

The boy was so close. If Jongdae just reached out, he could almost grab the lantern. Then without warning, the light jerked sharply to the side. Jongdae pinwheeled forward, and the ground beneath him swiftly vanished.

“Jongdae!”

It was barely a tumble, but Jongdae’s arms scraped every single rock on his way down, his torso and face taking the branches. A yellow globe swung back and forth, while his vision slowly came back to him.

It was the boy, peering down at them, face illuminated by the light. He lowered the lantern and blew the flame out, vanishing immediately.

“Wait!” Jongdae shouted, sitting up. His wrist gave way beneath him, and Jongdae crumpled back to the ground.

Baekhyun’s hands pulled him up, wrapping cold fingers around Jongdae’s wrist, probing. It didn’t feel like anything was broken, but everything throbbed.

Sitting up, Jongdae was drawn to a new source of light.

“There’s a house.” He murmured, awed. Baekhyun looked up at him and spun around on the balls of his feet, standing.

The house rose through the fog, tall and crooked. Even in the darkness Jongdae could see the strange slant of it, rooms stacked like shoeboxes in a badly organized closet. It looked like it came out of a fairytale— Jongdae could use a happy ending any time now. 

“Any last words?” Baekhyun asked, as Jongdae rose and pressed their shoulders together. His voice was strangled, even though Jongdae knew he’d aimed for teasing. Jongdae reached out to entwine their fingers.

“Hold my hand,” Jongdae said. “And don’t let go.”

☾

 The house was even stranger up close, a fantastical construction that seemed as though it was standing through sheer force of will. Built on a small mound that lent it an ominous height, Baekhyun stopped short as it loomed over them, shutters flapping in the wind. There were crows on the ground by the staircase to the house, and every head turned towards them as they approached.

Chimes hung from the rafters, clanging about in poor mimicry of a halloween’s waltz. It was the kind of noise that should have attracted every creature for miles, but the only people who’d come were Jongdae and Baekhyun.

“Oh God.” Baekhyun said, and his knees buckled. Jongdae’s palm hit the dirt, hard, the other still wrapped around Baekhyun’s hand.

The crows on the ground pattered aside, flightless. Footsteps approached them, accompanied by a long shadow, and soon there was a hand placed across the back of Jongdae’s neck.

“How odd.” The voice said, low but gentle, and Jongdae struggled to look up. God, there were people here.

“Please.” Jongdae said. The man was surprisingly young, and his eyes looked at Jongdae in concern, the hand never moving from Jongdae’s skin. “We need a place to stay.” With his pretty eyes and soft sweater, the man looked just as impossible as the house did.

“Here?" 

“You’re the only house we’ve seen in days. Please.”

The man frowned. “I’m not the one in charge.” He smoothed his fingers down the side of Jongdae’s neck, searching, perhaps.

“We’re not— we aren’t bitten. We’re just ordinary people.”

“There’s nothing ordinary about someone who comes to this part of the marshes.” The man said. He stood, the weight on Jongdae’s neck leaving, and Jongdae panicked, thinking that the man would leave, but instead his hand moved to Jongdae’s arm and helped him to his feet, holding him steady when he swayed.

Crows had gathered around them to watch the short interaction, and scurried around them, pecking at the ground near Jongdae’s shoes. The man paid them no heed, leading Jongdae and Baekhyun up the wooden stairs to the front deck.

A chalk sign hung, crooked, at the front door.

 _CHANYEOL’S 24-HOUR HOTEL_  
_RING THE BELL!_  
_WE’LL BE WITH YOU IN A ~~GIF~~ JIFFY_

 “I—” Jongdae started, choked himself off. “This is a suspiciously convenient hotel.”

“I’m sorry.” The man said. He reached out to ring the doorbell. “Do you see a less suspicious hotel around here you’d like to stay at?”

The front door rattled, and lace curtains parted to reveal a broadly smiling face, a second young man flinging the door open.

“Welcome to Chanyeol’s—” He began, and the smile on his face melted off abruptly at the sight of them. He skid backwards and slammed the door in their faces, hovering on the other side of the glass window, partially hidden by layers of lace.

“Chanyeol, we can _see_ you.” The man by Jongdae’s elbow said.

The door pushed open a fraction.

“Who are they? Did they make a reservation?” Chanyeol whispered. A tattered guestbook was shoved in their faces, neat columns of names lined up. It was yanked away before Jongdae could read any of them.

“Our names wouldn’t be there.” Baekhyun tried to explain. He was poised to run, and Jongdae found, with little surprise, that their fingers were still threaded together. “We came here by accident.”

“No one comes here by accident.” Chanyeol said. He squinted at Jongdae and his hand flicked back at an unseen switch. Bright orange light flooded Jongdae’s vision, making him feel uneasy.

 _Be careful!_ A voice shrieked in his head. It sounded like Junmyeon, always the most cautious one of the family.

But what good had that done him. Trying his best not to think about Junmyeon, Jongdae turned his gaze to Baekhyun.

Jongdae thought about the journal, the fevered days of nonstop research and planning, clinging onto a desperate dream, an endeavor with no fruit. He’d thought leaving the city would make things better by default, but it hurt to think about those months on the road, the blood-paved roads and constant feeling of helplessness. They were dizzyingly high up even on the front deck of the house, and the marsh stretched out for miles behind them. Jongdae didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back there.

Baekhyun’s fingers tightening around Jongdae’s was the only answer he needed. They’d done plenty of reckless things already, their trip a series of horrendous situations that they’d miraculously scraped through. Walking into a house with tungsten lighting and lace curtains didn’t seem particularly worse than any of the other choices they’d made.

“Please. Our car is flooded down in the marshes, we’ve been walking for ages.”

“We have money.” Jongdae added. There had been no use for money outside the city; they’d burnt some for kindling on particularly desperate nights. They could sleep under the porch, perhaps. The kind man with the sweater might let them. They didn’t have to go into the house. 

“Car?” Soft-sweater-man asked, considering the word carefully. He was not interested in the money, either. “You drove here? I thought cars were extinct.”

“Not extinct, just expensive.” 

“You should return to your car.” Chanyeol said. “You don’t want to stay here. No one does.”

“Chanyeol.” Soft-sweater man sighed. 

“It won’t start.” Jongdae said, shaking his head. His mouth was moving miles ahead of his brain. “We’d die. You can’t— I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m really not, but— it would kill us.”

Chanyeol stared at them, his expression completely undecipherable. His irises were so dark Jongdae could see himself reflected in them.

“We can’t have that.” He said at last, and pulled the lace curtains back for them to step through. The other man stood at the door, making no move to follow them inside, and by the time they reached the end of the corridor, the front door had closed and he was gone.

The inside of the house was lit a dusky purple, the colour dripping off the furniture and walls. It felt like being at a club long after the last dancers had gone home, and Jongdae’s brain felt just as thick as if he’d been drinking.

With Baekhyun and Jongdae clustered behind him, Chanyeol flipped open his guestbook once more. The way he combed through the pages was painfully slow. Jongdae never realized that the crinkle of paper could sound like cracking bones. Eventually, he closed the book again, stuck his long arms behind him into the dark corridor, and came back empty-handed. 

“Come.” Chanyeol said. The staircases seemed endless, in this maze of a hotel. Through Jongdae’s feverish haze, he felt Chanyeol’s hand wrap around his wrist.

Jongdae let himself be led.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Right after leaving the city, they had gone to the sea. Jongdae had only been there once before. They could see the ocean from the very top floor of their apartment building, and Jongdae watched old movies sometimes, where people went to the beach and lit campfires and traced hearts in the sand.

It was such an old fantasy, the sort of romantic evening one could spend at the beach. In the news, people who went down to the ocean always ended up dead.

They’d gone anyway.

In retrospect, it had been stupid to make a detour like that at the very beginning of their trip. They had a carefully drawn out map and limited food rations, and they should have gone straight ahead, instead of treading upon a beach where any number of creatures might have lurked. 

But Baekhyun had insisted, and despite how very stupid it had been, Jongdae could still remember the gentle lapping of waves against the shoreline, the glittering of the neverending blue sea under the late afternoon sun. Baekhyun’s hair fluttered in the wind, and he built a castle for the both of them, decorating it with seashells and a moat.

In Jongdae’s dreams now, he was swimming beneath the glistening water of that same beach, holding a teacup in one hand and a gardening spade in the other. The water was darker, colder, and a bird with two beaks flew after him, singing a tuneless song. In the distance, a twig cracked, and Jongdae woke up.

He was in a spacious bedroom, floor-length curtains shielding the room from light. A series of bulbs hung from the ceiling instead, casting a warm yellow glow to the room. The room was mostly empty otherwise, with a dresser that held nothing but candlesticks, a wooden desk and a fur rug strewn across the floor.

Urging his limbs into motion, Jongdae slid off the side of the king-sized bed and put on the fluffy bedroom slippers waiting for him. They were shaped like kittens, with a tiny bell collar at the very front.

On the other side of the room, there were two stiff-backed armchairs, and a tall sheet of cloth hanging flat over a hidden length. Reaching up, Jongdae tugged the cloth to the ground.

The face looking back at him in the mirror was shocked and pale, but he was cleaner than he’d been in weeks, his hair cleaned of grime and blood. He was dressed in an unfamiliar linen shirt, but it was crisp and comfortable and smelled like fabric softener instead of decay. Jongdae pressed his nose up against the loose collar, and turned away from the mirror, leaving the sheet on the wooden floor. 

Outside the room, narrow windows spilled light across the floorboards. Jongdae caught a ray in the palm of his hand as he moved to a window to look out it. It was raining lightly, but the marshes were beautiful from his elevated height at the window, twisting like the gnarled branches of a tree that grew into ocean.

It was easy enough to follow the sound of music down to the kitchen, where someone stood with his back towards Jongdae. The radio was playing softly, crackling some old song from before the apocalypse, and Jongdae stopped at the doorway.

The man turned around.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

It was his savior with the soft sweater from before. Today, he was wearing a sunflower-patterned apron over his shirt, flecks of light haloing around his head, and the image was surreal. Jongdae opened his mouth to thank him.

“You’re Do Kyungsoo.” Jongdae said instead.

Kyungsoo’s lips twisted into a wry smile.

“So I’ve been told fairly recently, yes.”

There was an excited clatter from the next room, and Baekhyun appeared in the opposite doorway. Jongdae’s heart caught in his throat, and his arms were already open when Baekhyun flung himself into them. His hair was fluffy, his cheeks pink with health, and Jongdae couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Aww, you’re not bloody any more. I hardly even recognize you.” Jongdae teased, but his hands couldn’t stop touching, Baekhyun so soft and warm and whole.

“Where are we?” Jongdae said, keeping Baekhyun tucked against his side while he returned his gaze to last night’s savior. “You are Do Kyungsoo, right? The actor? Baekhyun had your posters pinned up all over his walls before we left the city.”

It earned him a punch in the arm, and Jongdae’s laughter turned into choking when Kyungsoo said, “Yeah, I signed a couple of photocards this morning.”

“You did what?” Jongdae spluttered, and Baekhyun sheepishly fanned out a handful of cards for Jongdae to see.

“I might have  _accidentally_  put them into the journal.” Baekhyun said. “I had to bring Kyungsoo with me.”

“You punched me in the face last night when I tried to take them from you.” Kyungsoo said, and Baekhyun flushed bright red and mumbled an apology.

Jongdae laughed, stroking Baekhyun’s head. His hair really was fluffy, when it wasn’t layered with weeks of crusted dirt. It was only just starting to get too long, and flopped over his eyes when the angle was right. The cuts in his face had been cleaned out, and he even had a brand new bandaid over it. Jongdae wished he had been there to see Baekhyun’s flustered squirming, if Kyungsoo had been the one to tend to him.

Someone else came up the staircase, glass chimes above the door jangling. He wore a long coat with the hood up to shelter from the drizzling rain outside, and put it up on the stand in the hallway.

“Good morning.”

Chanyeol was so tall in the small kitchen that when he entered, the entire room looked even tinier in comparison. Baekhyun stared at him for a long moment, craning his neck to look back out the hallway at the coat stand. He let out a loud gasp.

“You’re bucket hat guy!” Baekhyun exclaimed, seeming torn between wanting to move closer to Chanyeol or backing away. He scratched at Jongdae’s skin, gaze flitting back and forth between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.

Three pairs of eyes fell on him.

“What do you mean bucket hat guy?” Chanyeol asked, and Baekhyun ducked behind Jongdae, using him as a protective shield.

Jongdae cupped a hand around the back of his head, soothing and concerned, but he was starting to see where this was going, and it was not anywhere close to cause for concern.

“You’re the guy who was hanging out with Kyungsoo before he vanished!” Baekhyun said, peeking out from behind Jongdae’s back. Ah, there it was. “I saw all those pictures of you on the glassnet, you sent him five food trucks and a flower stand! That was you!”

“What do you mean you saw pictures!” Chanyeol said. “I’ve been neither a food truck nor a flower stand!” 

Baekhyun made a horrified squeak and hid behind Jongdae again.

Laughing, Jongdae released Baekhyun, turning to look at Chanyeol. “I’m sure what Baekhyun meant to say is he’s sorry for following you four blocks after seeing you drop off the flowers at Kyungsoo’s ‘Tell Me What Is Love’ premiere.”

“I  _am_  very sorry.” Baekhyun said in repentance. “I lost my spot in line and someone stepped on the penguin pillow I brought for Kyungsoo.”

“Baekhyun talked about it for weeks.” Jongdae said. He pinched Baekhyun in the side, leaning closer until the ends of Baekhyun’s hair brushed against his nose. “And once he was done he stuck your blurry bucket-hat picture up on the wall next to Kyungsoo’s. Hey, Baekhyun, when are you putting a photo of me up, huh?”

Baekhyun wriggled under Jongdae’s arm again, paying him minimal attention. He stared Chanyeol down, eyes narrowed as though waiting for a fight. Jongdae was tempted to pull him away before they got themselves kicked out.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Kyungsoo glanced back at the three of them, and held out a plate of strawberry pancakes for one of them to take. Jongdae reached for it while Baekhyun was gaping, pushing it into his hands.

“This can’t be real.” Baekhyun whispered, letting Jongdae shuffle them to the round mosaic table in the corner. “He keeps Do Kyungsoo in his basement  _and_  strawberries in his kitchen!”

Chanyeol grimaced. “I don’t  _keep_  him there. He’s there on his own accord.”

“I’m perfectly happy in the basement, thank you.” Kyungsoo said. “I appreciate the pillow, Baekhyun, I hope you like strawberries.”

A second plate of strawberry pancakes and syrup dressing followed shortly after. Baekhyun sat uselessly at the table with his mouth agape, and Chanyeol put the pile at the very center of the table. Feeling faintly like he was dreaming, Jongdae let himself sink into the chair beside Baekhyun.

Chanyeol sat in the empty seat across from Jongdae, taking a plate for himself and a generous helping of pancakes. Too sick with exhaustion when they first arrived, Jongdae had not looked at Chanyeol properly, and took his appearance in. He was young too, a quick smile beneath silver-blue hair, ears pointed slightly at the tips. Kyungsoo looked unreal in a way Jongdae understood, handsome, famous, and out of reach, but Chanyeol made even less sense. He fit in here, beautiful and foreign, in this peculiar, nowhere hotel.

“Why do you have a hotel here?” Jongdae asked, once he realized he was staring. “It’s a nice place you have, but it’s a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and  _you_  were all the way out here.” Kyungsoo pointed out. “We get our fair share of guests, but it’s the first time someone’s tried to do a walk-in.”

“We were looking for a haven. You uh… don’t take long-term guests, do you?” Jongdae polished off his second pancake, and took a third. Baekhyun was eyeing the syrup with obvious want, and Jongdae reached over to tip more onto his already swimming breakfast.

Chanyeol put down his fork and combed a hand through his hair. “It’s a twenty-four hour hotel. We don’t keep guests for longer than that.”

“Oh.” Jongdae’s face falls. “I didn’t realize that was what the sign meant.”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, as if it were obvious. “But you’re not in the guestbook, so I don’t know that the hotel cares. In the first place, I shouldn’t have let you in. You didn’t make a reservation, you can’t make payment, and frankly, I’m not sure  _what_ to do with you.”

“We have a bag of coins.” Jongdae offered, meekly.

“I’ve seen your coins.” Chanyeol said, utterly uninterested in them.

Jongdae took Baekhyun’s hand under the table and squeezed, unable to bear the thought of being tossed out again so quickly. Baekhyun’s thumb rubbed over the back of Jongdae’s palm reassuringly, and Jongdae let out a slow breath.

“We’re not in peak season.” Kyungsoo said, turning to look at Chanyeol.

“No.” Chanyeol said. “They can’t—”

“We can.” Jongdae said. “It doesn’t even have to be a nice room. We just— food, shelter. We’ll work in exchange. I can clean and cook, and Baekhyun’s really good with people.”

“It would be fun.” Jongdae tried. “Doesn’t it get lonely around here?”

“Lonely?” Chanyeol asked with a hollow laugh. “With the swarms of people passing through every single day, lonely? How could that ever be.”

Jongdae bit down on his lower lip, anxiousness washing through him. “I—”

“Chanyeol. Don’t frighten them.” Kyungsoo warned, and Chanyeol sagged.

“You want to stay here?” Chanyeol asked. “You really want to stay here?”

“Not forever.” Baekhyun said, and Jongdae bit down on his tongue. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice piped, ‘yes, forever, stay forever, Jongdae,’ and Jongdae stamped it out. “Maybe until we figure out where we’re going to next.”

“Where  _are_  you going to next?” Kyungsoo asked.

Jongdae shrugged helplessly.

Chanyeol sighed. “Stay out of the way, okay? Most of our guests aren’t here to socialize. If you can, keep to your rooms at night. A lot of visitors arrive past midnight, and I don’t need more people running around here after dark.”

Jongdae would agree to living in a bathtub if they had to. Having run on two-hour naps in the back of a car for months, it was hardly a chore to lie down in a comfortable, king-sized bed beside Baekhyun and sleep until the morning.

“Thank you.” He said to Chanyeol, to Kyungsoo.

“You’re welcome. You’ve been holding my hand under the table for the past ten minutes, by the way, Jongdae.” Kyungsoo said, and Jongdae promptly dropped it, face flaming red. 

☼

Kyungsoo lived in the basement, and Chanyeol up in the attic, with seven floors between them. Jongdae originally thought they’d stay together, keep each other company in this nowhere home, but each seemed content with their own privacy. He’d find them in the garden sometimes, Chanyeol helping to pluck tomatoes from the trellis, and occasionally trying to water Kyungsoo with the garden hose.

But most days, it was rainy, and they stayed inside the hotel. Chanyeol often slept until late afternoon, while Kyungsoo retired to his basement after breakfast, leaving Baekhyun and Jongdae to their own devices.

They spent the first few days exploring the curious twists and turns of the hotel, getting whiplash from the neverending assortment of rooms. Some had walls of exposed brick, some mustard-yellow wallpaper, and some tiles loud enough to blind a person. One of the fireplaces turned out to be a hidden passageway, and Jongdae followed it up to a tall turret that Baekhyun vehemently refused to climb.

Like every part of the house, many of the bedrooms were cluttered with a wide assortment of unrelated things, ostentatious décor in every corner. There were spacious bedrooms and tiny ones side by side, and every room had a story to tell, from the dents in the walls, to the drawers of pearls, and the dog-eared books that sometimes creaked when Jongdae picked them up.

It was a hotel well-lived in, which added to the charm of the place, but also the curious fact that Jongdae had yet to see another guest.

Baekhyun had found a jacket he liked in one of the empty bedrooms. It was slightly larger on him, but it was warm and waterproof, which were the most important factors. Neither Kyungsoo nor Chanyeol seemed to mind, and Kyungsoo offered to fix the unruly zipper.

Jongdae couldn’t find another jacket, but he’d found other things: antique records, embroidered handkerchiefs and mirrors with etched stones. Baekhyun bored of the dusty things quickly, coming by if Jongdae called to him, but most of the time he spent elsewhere, basking in Kyungsoo or Chanyeol’s attention if either were available.

Other times, he worked on the journal, maps spread out on the sturdy reading desk, borrowed highlighters scattered across the oak. Kyungsoo sat with him sometimes, looking at the frantic notes. They’d left the city in such a hurry, it was a miracle they’d made it at all. Jongdae’s stomach churned whenever he saw Baekhyun at the table.

Then the skies turned sunny after the third consecutive rainy day.

Instead of staying in, they went for long walks along the marshes, never daring to venture until the house was out of sight. Kyungsoo’s garden, strawberries excluded, struggled to grow in the small plot of land behind the house. Out by the water, however, nature thrived in abundance. 

They found the fanged deer again, drinking water from a fresh pool. Birds sang from the reeds, taking flight when Jongdae looked for them. Baekhyun picked up frogs and talked at them, until they returned the gesture.

There were no creatures to remind them of the outside world, and them having spent a week sleeping in the marshes without being torn to shreds was proof of the fact. The only blood-sucking creatures in the marshes were the mosquitos, and having a house to return to every night made the impossible haven even better. 

With all the new activity in their lives, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Yet for what, Jongdae had no plans but to live and live they did, fettering the days away in the sunshine. They tumbled into bed late at night, and continued to talk and plan into the early morning.

Chanyeol had their meals with them at least once a day, coming and going in his long red coat. But Kyungsoo walked with them sometimes, gathering plants for his garden, and fish for their dinner. Like Jongdae, he left the deer alone.

Statues made of stone or wood sat hidden among the reeds, often near the river mouths. Occasionally, a series of similar statues lined the stretch of a path, and Kyungsoo bowed to each one.

“Who are these?” Baekhyun asked, lagging behind to read the etchings on the stone.

Kyungsoo brushed some rotted plants off the base of a statue. “Quite a few of them have been here longer than I have. Some of them are gods or goddesses, for safe passage. People brought them when they came, and left them for the next person to come along. They keep the marshes safe.” 

Jongdae never thought of himself a believer of higher powers, but all things considered, he supposed he could be. He bowed at the next statue he passed, made of pure white marble. When they’d first stepped into the marshes, Jongdae hadn’t seen a single one of these.

But maybe, they’d seen him.

“Thank you.” Jongdae murmured, brushing against the cool marble. There was a hairline crack at the side, with blue running through the centre, and Jongdae stopped short, struck with the realization that it had been an entire week before he’d thought about Junmyeon. Kyungsoo walked into him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jongdae said. For a second he was afraid Kyungsoo would ask. He didn’t want to talk about Junmyeon. In general, he tried to keep any thoughts of family to a minimum.

Jongdae forced himself to start walking again, as if the thoughts were something he could physically outrun. He could certainly try. “Are you happy here, Kyungsoo?” He asked. “You haven’t been making movies.”

“No, I haven’t.” Kyungsoo said, easily accepting the new topic. “It’s okay. I always thought, if I wasn’t a celebrity, I’d be happy with a life as a farmer.” 

They came across a wooden bridge. The water was shallow at this hour, nearly dried up, and Kyungsoo chose to walk beneath the wooden bridge instead of over it. There were notches in the wood where the water had risen during the high tide.

“Maybe if you were a proper farmer.” Jongdae said, thinking of Kyungsoo’s garden. “If people came to buy your vegetables and baked you pies in exchange for large turnips.”

Jongdae shut his eyes briefly. Junmyeon had always made wonderful pies.

Kyungsoo’s laugh was gentle. Jongdae suddenly understood why Baekhyun liked him so much, and it caught him off-guard. “I have no idea what kind of farmers you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Jongdae pressed. “It’s quiet, here. I don’t see many of your guests staying for long to chat.”

“That’s fine. I’m not the kind of person who needs a lot of excitement in my life. Chanyeol likes being around people more than I do. It’s good that he has a job where he gets to. Are you thinking of leaving?”

Jongdae’s insides knotted up. “No. Are you going to make us leave? Chanyeol hasn’t said.”

“Chanyeol would clear his room for a mouse if he thought it needed a place to stay.” Kyungsoo said. He made it sound like a bad thing, turning to face Jongdae fully, as though daring him to argue otherwise. 

Jongdae had no idea; he wasn’t a mouse, even if under Kyungsoo’s gaze he felt like he could be.

“You were the one who convinced him.” Jongdae said dumbly, in the end. “I thought you were okay with us staying.”

Kyungsoo looked at him then, full lips drawn together, deep in thought. “I am okay with it. That’s not what I meant.” Kyungsoo said. The moment passed. A wave crested through the water, overflowing onto the bank, and whatever demons Kyungsoo were carrying ebbed with it.

“Baekhyun is happy here.” Jongdae commented. It was the only point that mattered. Belatedly, he added, because he thought Kyungsoo might expect him to: “I’m happy too.”

It was the truth, but it was hard to misunderstand the look Kyungsoo gave him as anything other than disbelief.

“I just want Baekhyun to be safe.” Jongdae said, and tried, again, not to think of Junmyeon.

Looking away, he caught sight of a frog tangled helplessly in a patch of seagrass, and lifted it out. Its long legs extended to Jongdae’s knees even when he held it level to his chest, and Kyungsoo gave him a withering look and a wide berth.

With Kyungsoo watching from a safe distance, Jongdae brought the frog over to Baekhyun like some weird courting gift. The frog dangled calmly in his hands, long legs swaying.

“What is that?” Baekhyun asked interestedly, abandoning the statue he’d been studying.

“Don’t wave that thing around, Kim Jongdae. Put it back in the water.” Kyungsoo said in disdain.

But neither Baekhyun nor the frog had such ambitions. They ambled behind Kyungsoo and Jongdae, Baekhyun whispering in a low undertone, far away enough that neither of them could hear what he was saying. Jongdae kept the conversation light for the rest of the walk.

They had looped around the dried lake and were headed back towards the house when the frog kicked its long legs out and stepped off the path. Baekhyun lunged after it, and Jongdae winced when he heard a splash.

“You should keep him on a leash.” Kyungsoo said, turning to watch the frantic rustling of the reeds. More splashing ensued, and Baekhyun returned with the frog in tow, leaves in his hair. 

“He has something to say to you.” Baekhyun said, trying to offer it to Kyungsoo, who stoutly refused. Finally, Baekhyun put the frog by Kyungsoo’s feet, and tapped on its head with a reed.

“Number one actor, Do Kyungsoo!” The frog chirped.

☼

The reappearance of Mongryong the Second marked the end of their first week at Chanyeol’s hotel. The rain had thundered against the roof, the house rattling so terribly Baekhyun had fled their second-floor bedroom and gone to lie on the porch, flat on his stomach so he wouldn’t have far to fall.

Chanyeol, in his heavy red coat, came up the stairs and stepped over Baekhyun, too preoccupied to do anything more than wave at Jongdae. Ten minutes later, they’d found Mongryong the Second at the foot of the stairs, soaked from head to toe. With a squeak, Baekhyun dashed down to rescue him, and had smuggled the puppy back into their bedroom just in time to hear Chanyeol hurry back down the steps. 

They kept Mongryong for all of twelve minutes before being discovered. 

“My fierce, tiny, child.” Baekhyun cooed, letting Mongryong nip at his fingers, while Jongdae sat on the edge of the soapy tub and blow-dried the both of them.

Over the whir of the hairdryer, they almost missed the sound of someone coming up the stairs.

“Uh-oh.” Jongdae said, hurriedly pulling Baekhyun out of the tub. Chanyeol had shown nothing but hospitality throughout their stay, but Jongdae wasn’t sure breaking a direct rule of the hotel would get a free pass. Scrambling to get his bearings, Baekhyun dove into the closet with the puppy in his arms.

Chanyeol stepped in not a moment later. “What’s going on in here?”

Mongryong let out a cheerful bark.

Jongdae coughed weakly, Chanyeol frowning down at him. “Was that a dog? Do you have a  _dog_  in that closet?”

“Please don’t be mad.” Jongdae said, hurrying to block Chanyeol’s path. “I know you said we shouldn’t let any of the animals into the house, but we found a puppy in the river last week, and he came to look for us! He’s the tiniest thing, he won’t do any harm.”

Mongryong barked again. Jongdae plastered himself against the closet.

"You’re not superstitious, are you? Mongryong the Second has been nothing but sweet and kind.” Jongdae said. “Please don’t toss him out.”

“Mongryong the Second?”

“Baekhyun named him. He’s a little black dog, but he’s not bad luck, I promise.”

If exasperation were a person it would have knocked Jongdae out there and then. Chanyeol moved Jongdae aside, yanking open the closet door.

Baekhyun blinked up at them, crouched in the corner of the closet with Mongryong in his arms. This was a very bad idea. For all they knew, Chanyeol could be allergic to dogs, no matter how cute.

“Isn’t he cute?” Baekhyun wheedled, holding Mongryong out like a ruling king of a rock. “How could you say no to this face?”

“That’s my dog.” Chanyeol said, massaging his temples. “Tobennie, come here, boy.”

With a cheerful bark, Toben licked Baekhyun in the face and bounded off to Chanyeol.

“I thought you said no animals in the house!” Baekhyun shouted after him.

☼

  _I’m not good with words. If I could return home I wouldn’t have to use them, I’d show you so you’d know. I need to explain. Or really, I just need to apologize. What happened that night was my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could tell you.”_

“What are you reading?” Jongdae asked, looking up from the weedy crown he was weaving. His feet dangled over the edge of the wooden deck.

From below him, in a leaky boat patched up with lily pads, Baekhyun sat up. He yanked on Jongdae’s ankle and pulled himself onto the deck again, holding out the letter so Jongdae could read the rest of the note, down the thin cursive valediction at the bottom.

It looked old. The lilac notepaper was fragile, almost crispy, and the light bleed of the ink was faded.

“It probably belonged to whoever owned this jacket.” Baekhyun said. He read the note aloud again, flourishing all the important bits, and then added, more wistfully, “I wonder if they ever managed to apologize.”

Jongdae frowned. “I wonder why they left this behind. A jacket is kind of essential, isn’t it? It’s like leaving the house in only one shoe.”

“They might have another.” Baekhyun pointed out. “One without tear-stained letters and… candy.”

Jongdae snatched it from his fingers when Baekhyun eyed the sugary treat too long. He fed it to a hopeful mallard passing beneath their feet.

Baekhyun folded the letter and tucked it back into the inside lining of the jacket. In the other pocket he found a coin, smooth on one side, and gave it a twist. The coin spun, twirling across the wood until it fell into the water with a noiseless plop.

“Sorry.” Baekhyun said with a pout. What did he expect to happen otherwise, Jongdae wondered.

It was getting chilly. Jongdae’s leather jacket, ripped beyond repair, was hanging in their bedroom closet.

“Come into my jacket, let’s keep warm together.” Baekhyun said cheerfully, holding out an arm.

“That’s not how jackets work.” Jongdae said, ignoring Baekhyun’s flapping arm. There were two mating dragonflies on a nearby stump. Back in the city, they almost never saw insects.

"Let's go on a date." Jongdae said. “It’s been awhile since we’ve done something romantic.” 

There had been a time, not so long ago, when Jongdae had thought they should break up. The consequent weeks of that one conversation had been worse than whatever warfare was going on outside the apartment, and still sent a spark of pain through Jongdae’s chest whenever he remembered. It was one of the few reasons that, when Jongdae left the city, he hadn’t been able to tell Baekhyun to stay.

“Tell me you want to break up because you don’t love me,” Baekhyun had said, “Not because you love me too much.”

And Jongdae loved him too much.

“You mean shooting that goblin in the face last month wasn’t romantic enough for you?” Baekhyun asked, pulling his legs from the edge and crossing them in front of him. He zipped up his jacket and grinned at Jongdae.

"Shut up, you got sticky green blood all over my hair.”

Baekhyun gazed at him, his cheeks puffed up in the way they got when he was pleased about something.

"I mean it. Let’s go on a date.  I’ll pick you up and bring you flowers and the whole nine yards.”

"In case you haven't noticed," Baekhyun said,  "There aren’t exactly many five-star restaurants around here vying for our patronage. Or any restaurants, for that matter.”

"We'll do this in the house." Jongdae decided.  "I'll set up candles. We can get Kyungsoo to make dinner.”

“He’ll love that.” Baekhyun said, and it was only half sarcastic.

“Say yes, Baekhyun."

"Yes, Baekhyun." Baekhyun parroted, smiling and leaning in towards Jongdae.  They were close enough that Jongdae could count his eyelashes if he tried, but he couldn't focus on anything besides the upwards curve of Baekhyun's lips as closed that distance and added, "Yes, Jongdae."

☾

Kyungsoo cooked for three hours, herding them out of the kitchen so he could make their candlelit dinner in peace. Baekhyun sat at the foot of the stairs, peeking around the corner every so often to spy on him, retreating when Kyungsoo turned around, suspicious.

Jongdae wandered around the garden, plucking mallows and weeds and strawberries. He found a patch of bright marigolds closer to the marsh, and went around the back for a cluster of purple flowers with narrow leaves. He was eyeing the baby eggplant in Kyungsoo’s flowerbed when Chanyeol passed by, raising an eyebrow at the overflowering bouquet. Jongdae decided to let the eggplant be.

He sneaked past Baekhyun and put the bouquet in one of the hallway bathrooms, easily finding a vase amongst the clutter. Next, he looked for an outfit in one of the upstairs bedrooms. They’d more or less been borrowing Kyungsoo’s clothes along with a combination of Chanyeol’s oversized attire, but Jongdae hoped to find something a little fancier than Chanyeol’s unlimited supply of sweatpants and nightgowns.

He was in a large suite on the fifth floor when he found the folded wedding veil at the bottom of a closet, next to a pair of white heels. Both were sat on top of two glossy white boxes, large enough to fit an outfit each, and Jongdae scrambled to open them.

“Oh my god.” Jongdae murmured, unable to believe his luck. 

The first box revealed a wedding dress with enough layers of tulle to make a medium-sized tent. There were white flowers sewn along the chest, and the fabric floated, light and airy, as Jongdae shook it out to fold it back. Then he opened the next box and found a midnight blue suit, still nicely pressed, made of a solid, stiff material that spoke of good money. Jongdae ran his hands over the fabric, awed.

Someone came up the stairs, hovering by the doorway. Jongdae grinned.

“Baekhyunnie!” He called, delirious with excitement. “I found a wedding gown and suit. You want to wear the dress or shall I?”

“What?” Baekhyun’s voice called back from the foot of the stairs.

 Jongdae’s head jerked around. There was no one at the door.

Gathering the clothing in his arms, Jongdae left the bedroom and peered down the stairs. Baekhyun stood in the landing, snacking on the strawberries from the bouquet Jongdae had hidden.

“Congratulations?” Baekhyun offered, watching the veil of the dress slither off the bannister and hang above his head. “Come help me convince Kyungsoo to let me taste his soup, it smells so good.”

Jongdae put the veil down on the end table and went.

Kyungsoo was not amendable to being convinced, but when Jongdae managed to take a spoonful while Kyungsoo was distracted, it turned out the soup was, in fact, delicious.

☾

Kyungsoo made them seafood pasta with a creamy bisque, with squares of cherry chocolate cake for dessert. Jongdae had sneaked downstairs early to set up, and caught Kyungsoo escaping the kitchen while balancing two bowls on a tray of his own. He waved away Jongdae’s thanks with a smile before retreating, presumably to join Chanyeol upstairs.

Jongdae’s heart sang as he picked the prettiest bowls from the cabinet, setting them out on the walnut table in the rarely-used dining room. Baekhyun had eaten half of Jongdae’s bouquet, but it was still pretty, and Jongdae placed the vase between both their plates, with a scattering of light petals over the dark wood. He lit the brown sugar scented candle he’d found upstairs, and tried five switches before managing to dim the lights.

“Jongdae, are you ready?” Baekhyun called from the second floor, voice echoing down the halls. “Can’t I walk myself down the stairs? The food smells good.”

“I’m picking you up! Be right there!” Jongdae shouted. The dining room was so beautiful, Jongdae stood for a moment, overcome with emotion. 

Chanyeol had left them a bottle of wine outside their door, and Jongdae hurriedly read the label—  _‘_ _millésime_ _1890’_ — before pouring two glasses. He straightened the tableware one last time, and ran down the hallway to pick up his date.

☾

 They scraped both their bowls as well as the serving pot clean, and halfway through dinner Baekhyun climbed over the table and slid over to join Jongdae, tangling their feet together under the table. They picked at each other’s plates, talking about everything under the sun and exchanged kisses when they ran out of words. 

It was a dream come true, a date with no interruptions, no ghouls waiting behind the cash register, no banshee choir in the kitchen. Jongdae could close his eyes without watching his back, and when he caught a stain of red on Baekhyun’s cheek he brushed it away without his heart picking up.

After the longest time, they finally peeled themselves apart to clean up. Despite the magic of the entire night, midnight had more or less become the self-imposed curfew they’d adopted so they wouldn’t get in Chanyeol or Kyungsoo’s way.

Baekhyun sang as he did the dishes in his suit, likely getting water all over it. Jongdae carried the flowers back to their bedroom, keeping his voice low as he hummed along to Baekhyun’s singing.

He could hear both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo upstairs, and he crept up to bid them goodnight, still floating on the feeling of a perfect night. Kyungsoo was making his way down from the fourth floor, and Jongdae hung at the stairwell, smiling at Kyungsoo until he caught his attention.

“Someone’s up late.” Jongdae said with a wink. “Date night go well?”

Kyungsoo recoiled so quickly he knocked a painting off the wall, catching it with the tip of his fingers. “How long have you been standing there? You didn’t hear… anything, right?”

“Please. I’m not interested in your late-night shenanigans.” Jongdae said with a laugh. He paused. “Unless this is an invitation, because if it is—”

“There is no invitation!” Kyungsoo hissed. He waved a corner of the painting at Jongdae. He seemed pleased by the good mood Jongdae was in, however. “You both sounded like you had fun down there. You should go back to your room soon, it’s almost midnight.”

“Yes, fairy-godmother.” Jongdae said obediently. “I just wanted to thank you for the magic dress. I will whisk my prince away before he turns into a pumpkin.”

Kyungsoo’s snort followed him down the stairs.

There was an unexpected draft by the picture window across the hall from their bedroom. Jongdae tilted his head, going over to make sure the window hadn’t sprouted a hinge since the last time he’d seen it, but no, it was still firmly built into the wall. The world outside of their fairytale castle was silent, all the dancing mice and birds asleep.

Jongdae froze.

There was someone sitting outside on the swing.

“Holy shit.” Jongdae whispered. It was too dark to make anything of the person, but they were rocking themselves back and forth on the swing, shrouded in darkness. Jongdae tried to tell himself it was one of the late-night guests, but the longer he stared, the person’s limbs seemed too long, legs stretched out much farther on the ground than they should be able to.

The figure looked up from the swing, head turned directly towards Jongdae’s direction. Jongdae wrenched away from the window, colliding with Baekhyun, who had come up behind him.

“Come on.” Baekhyun whined, clumsily tugging on the back of Jongdae’s sweater. He was drunk on wine, on romance, and Jongdae would do anything to keep him safe. “Let’s go to bed.”

Jongdae pulled the curtains across the window and followed Baekhyun to the bedroom.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Blanket warnings for this chapter and the rest of the fic, because it all starts to spiral in more ways than one.

Week two came and went. They found bicycles tucked away behind the steps of the front porch; Jongdae expected the chains to be undone, the frames rusty, but they were perfectly preserved. They’d packed a picnic lunch to go, put it into one of the bicycle’s baskets, scooped Toben up and put him in the other, and they were off.

The sky was sunny and cloudless, and Jongdae reveled in the simple happiness of it, the warmth of the sun and the cool, salty, breeze. Every so often, he checked over his shoulder to make sure the hotel, tall and precarious, was still in sight. Baekhyun sang loudly and pedaled furiously ahead, while Jongdae was too content to race.

They took paths that they’d never seen before, along the upland then down by the dried-out tidal creeks. It seemed like every animal had come out of hiding to greet them, perplexed by Baekhyun’s cheerful warbling.

Beneath the spinning wheels, the constant, barely-there rumble of the road was intensely satisfying. Jongdae learned how to ride a bicycle in his family home, but he hadn’t gotten back onto one in nearly a decade.

Minseok and Junmyeon had gotten new bicycles, ones without training wheels, and in the days before the city was swarmed, it was easy to escape the lumbering wisps on a shiny new bike. Suddenly, Minseok could visit his friends’ houses without a chaperone, and Jongdae was determined to do the same. He spent three weeks falling flat on his face while Junmyeon patched him up and yelped whenever Jongdae’s bicycle veered too close.

Shaking the thoughts away, Jongdae sped up so that he was riding alongside Baekhyun. Baekhyun turned to him, sugar-sweet and soft with fondness.

“It’s nice here, Jongdae. Maybe we can stay a bit longer.”

"Maybe we should stay forever,"  Jongdae thought, but kept it unvoiced, smiling back with equal fervor.

 “How are we going to pay them for staying here?” Baekhyun mused, reaching into his basket to flop one of Toben’s ears.

The front wheel of Jongde’s bicycle snagged against a large rock and he struggled to right himself. There was a hare in the grass ahead, waiting for them to go by so it could cross the road.

Jongdae suggested, “Maybe they’re planning to eat us.”

“I call dibs on Kyungsoo.” Baekhyun said, and Jongdae took one foot off the pedal long enough to kick him.

They rode to the open coast and parked their bicycles, ate their lunch staring at the water and the islands in the distance.

“What do you think is out there?” Baekhyun asked. “What happens if we went across?”

“Don’t be mad. Islands always look closer than they really are. We’d never make it.” Jongdae said. The islands were green and pretty, but it wasn’t any greener than what they had. Jongdae wasn’t going anywhere.

☼

Despite the bright days of sunshine and constantly blue skies, Jongdae sometimes sat at the window and stared outside at the distant thunderclouds, feeling like he was sitting the front-row seats to a tragedy only just getting started.

He began making bargains with the deities of the marshes, going down to the water to speak at the base of their statues. If he gave Chanyeol the last waffle at the breakfast table, they would keep him and Baekhyun safe. If he always tapped on the doorframe twice before entering the bedroom, they would be kept safe through the night. If he stepped backwards through the pantry door, it would keep them safe.

He accumulated so many of these over a span of a few days that sometimes Baekhyun looked at him funny, unsure why Jongdae was always turning the plate clockwise before digging into his meal. Jongdae chose not to tell him. Baekhyun wouldn’t understand.

He grew to do these things two times over, for Baekhyun’s own sake as well as his own. “ _He doesn’t know,”_ Jongdae told them, in his head. _“I will do them in his stead.”_

On the drizzling days not yet a storm, they looped against one another, acquainting themselves with the house once more. Baekhyun found a heavy curtain that led to a new passageway of the house. In the main wing of the hotel there had already been countless paintings, but the walls beyond the curtain were filled to every last inch.

Fascinated, they walked through the gallery, leaving the curtain open behind them. There were drawings of lions in dialogue, women with snakes as belts, men in period clothing with birds for heads. Most of them were portraits, numerous characters with piercing gazes, all of whom Jongdae did not recognize.

When the storm arrived, Jongdae lay awake in bed long after Baekhyun had fallen asleep, listening to the far-off  _ting! ting! ting!_  of the rain against the aluminium sheets of Kyungsoo's roof.  He wrapped an arm over Baekhyun's sleeping form and prayed, to the hotel, the deities and the paintings, that he was not the lead of this play.

☼

The morning after the storm, the ground was covered in puddles. After a long bath, where he sat in the tub with his knees drawn to his chest, Jongdae found Baekhyun out in the back garden with Kyungsoo. He was helping to salvage the vegetables, gathering them in a basket, with the hood of the borrowed jacket high over his head. Chanyeol stood at the other end of the compound, looking at the shredded remnants of the nets that kept wild animals off the immediate vicinity.

Jongdae headed towards him, and Chanyeol spun around, hands up.

“You shouldn’t come here.” Chanyeol said, squaring his shoulders. “Go help Kyungsoo with his vegetables.”

“Baekhyun’s there.” Jongdae said. “You looked like you could use an extra hand. What’s going on?”

Jongdae stepped around Chanyeol, and his stomach dropped so quickly for a moment Jongdae thought he’d be sick. There was a large deer trapped in the net, unmoving, long tongue lolled from its open mouth. Soft brown skin was pulled away from its belly, exposing several bones of its ribs, while everything spilled else spilled out around it. The ground was sticky with a tar-like substance, consistency closer to wet, chewed-up taffy.

“What?” Jongdae murmured, faint. He thought he had grown indifferent to such things, in a city where bodies sometimes sat on the bus for an entire route before someone came to clean them up. On the road with Baekhyun, he’d carved the skins off enough walkers that he shouldn’t care, but it was funny how quickly he’d become accustomed to the opposite.

“I told you. You should go back into the house.” Chanyeol said weakly. His palms were stained black with the unidentified substance.

“No, it’s okay.” Jongdae said, breathing through his mouth and steadying himself. The black eyes were glossy, the skin on its face untouched. From a different angle, it would look like it was simply taking a nap. “What can I do to help?”

Chanyeol was cutting it loose from the wire. He tasked Jongdae with the frayed mesh away from the brunt of the damage, and Jongdae crouched down in the muddy ground and set to work untangling the legs. It had gotten so tangled up in the wire it was horrifying. How much had it struggled in attempt to get away, before whatever had done this caught up to it?

“Has this ever happened before? What kind of creature did this?” Jongdae asked.

Chanyeol shook his head. “A bird, I think.” He said. He bent over to fish a large black feather off the ground, handing it to Jongdae. Gingerly, Jongdae picked it up at the stem, measuring it against the length of his arm. It ran from his fingertips all the way past his elbow.

“A bird, or a _bird_?”

“The kind that didn’t ascend from the pits of hell, I assume. We don’t get any of that sort here.” Chanyeol said. “Hand me the cutter.”

Jongdae passed the tool over, looking at the feather again. In all their days spent at the marshes, not once had they run into an unfriendly being. Every creature they’d met had been skittish or friendly, or sometimes plain weird, but never aggressive. Involuntarily, he glanced over his shoulder at the empty swing. It swayed gently in the breeze.

“I saw someone in the garden the other night. He didn’t look right, Chanyeol.” Jongdae said. He stared down at the net resting against his forearm. The mesh was frayed in many places, like something had spent a small eternity gnawing against the metal fibres.

“That’s not a nice thing to say.” Chanyeol said. The grip in one of Jongdae’s hands loosened, wire curling up in an instant to scratch him in the arm. A small line of blood welled up against his skin, and Jongdae clasped his hand over it.

“The people who come here all have their own problems, Jongdae. You shouldn’t judge them.” Chanyeol said.

“I’m not judging them—” Jongdae said. “His legs—”

His words caught in his throat. He _had_ drunk a lot that night, tipsy on Baekhyun’s affection. Maybe it _had_ been an ordinary guest, everything else a trick of Jongdae’s addled mind.

“Jongdae!” Baekhyun called from the garden. At once, the uneasiness was shattered. Jongdae looked over to see Baekhyun waving something in the air above his head. “Want a lemon?”

“No thanks!” Jongdae called back, but a lemon came hurtling towards them anyway. Jongdae instinctively ducked out of the way instead of trying to catch it, and Baekhyun cackled when the lemon hit the net and tumbled past it, out to the wild, sandy slope beyond the compound.

With a snort, Chanyeol held the free end of the tattered net up for Jongdae to creep under. Jongdae did, careful not to disturb the deer as he passed by.

Dusting sand off his palms, Jongdae navigated through the prickly bushes and rescued the lemon. He kicked at the sand, reminded of the beach they’d visited when they first left the city.

Jongdae smiled, and froze. The sand had settled, covering all traces of it, but Jongdae knew what he had seen.

Tire tracks.

_Tire tracks._

God, Jongdae thought, his body lurching forward while his legs scrambled back. He ended up staggering into the sand, face-first. The lemon rolled away.

For a second, Jongdae was certain that he was going to run after it. Was tempted to tumble headlong after the lemon and into the woods, where no one could find him and he wouldn’t ever have to worry about another problem again.

He hadn’t wanted to come all the way here only to find that sanctuaries were still myth. They didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Jongdae?” Chanyeol called. He was standing up by the net, looking down. He knew what Jongdae had seen. Jongdae knew he did, but neither of them spoke as Jongdae returned to the compound, lemon conspicuously absent.

☾

Through the heavy curtains that draped across the far end of the room, the soothing sound of heavy rain filtered through. Rain, endless rain. The house was high enough to be safe, but Jongdae wondered if Kyungsoo’s basement ever flooded. Jongdae flopped onto the bed, struggling to keep his eyes open as Baekhyun disappeared into the bathroom.

“Can you see if Tobennie is around?” Baekhyun called, over the sound of sloshing water. “I miss him.”

Jongdae cracked an eye open. “Would you rather have a frog? I think I saw one in the garden earlier.”

“Do you want a frog in your bed?”

Jongdae did not. Resigning himself to looking for a small black dog in the shadows of the house, Jongdae slid off the bed and left the room.

Toben’s usual spot in Chanyeol’s armchair was empty, and Jongdae pressed his face against the parlor window. It was almost midnight, but Chanyeol was wandering the perimeter of the compound in his red coat, hood pulled over his head. Jongdae shook his head.

“Toben?” Jongdae called, looking around. Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Perhaps Toben was in the library, or unable to get down the stairs.

On the upper floors, even the rooms that were usually welcoming had their doors shut, and Jongdae wondered if they were filled with guests. A portrait stared at him unblinkingly from the top of the fourth-story staircase and Jongdae pulled his sweater up to around his jaw.

“If you’re going to watch me,” Jongdae said, when he finally stood before it, “You might as well watch over me.”

It was a larger-than-life painting of a woman in a black dress, luxurious red ribbon tied around her neck and cascading towards the floor. She was completely unperturbed by Jongdae’s aggravation. Her thick layer of paint looked fresh, and Jongdae reached out to touch the red ribbon.

His fingers met rough oil, completely dried.

“Truce?” Jongdae asked, and held his thumb over the inscription for six long seconds to seal the deal. By the time he walked away, something about her face seemed softer, even though it frightened him at first.

Farther up, the rug by the stairs of the fifth floor was askew.

“Tobennie, are you up here?” Jongdae whispered quietly, fixing the rug.

As he strained his ears, he heard the steady sound of a bathtub filling with water. The windows in Chanyeol’s office were fogged up with steam, and through them, he could see the red speck of Chanyeol’s coat, still wandering the gardens.

The bathroom door was ajar, fluorescent light spilling into the dark office and heat emanating from the room.

“Kyungsoo?”

Who else could be taking a bath in Chanyeol’s office at a quarter to midnight? All the guests should have been back in their rooms, Jongdae included. But here he was, pushing the bathroom door open slowly, heat rushing to greet him as he entered.

Inside, the tub was clearly being filled. The curtain around it was drawn, the hot air making it look as if the flowers on the curtain were dancing. The smell of roses hung thick in the air.

“Hey.” Jongdae said, clearing his throat. “You left the door open.”

There was no response. The tub kept filling, the flowers kept dancing. Water began to spill over the edge of the tub onto the checkered tile floor. It was a strange, murky color, and Jongdae retreated out of the bathroom to remove his bedroom slippers at the door.

Barefoot, he stepped back in, reaching for the curtain to pull it back and turn off the faucet. The sound of water roared in his ears, and the heat felt suffocating.

A hand touched his shoulder and spun him around. 

“Jongdae? What are you doing here?”

It was Chanyeol, hood high over his head, masking his face in shadows.

“I heard the water running.” Jongdae stammered. “The door was open, I didn’t mean to come in. I was just curious— and— your tub is overflowing.” Jongdae trailed off weakly.  The frightening expression on Chanyeol’s face lingered a bit longer, before turning into a smile. He slid into the narrow space between Jongdae and the tub, reaching behind the curtain to turn the tap off, all without taking his eyes off Jongdae.

“It’s one of our guests.” Chanyeol said, steering Jongdae out of the bathroom. “She must have stepped out for a moment. Come now, Jongdae. It isn’t polite to stand around while someone is trying to have a bath.”

Jongdae flushed red, following Chanyeol through the office and back out into the hall. “No one’s come in today. When did she arrive? How did she get here? I never even heard her.”

Feeling queasy, he let Chanyeol lead him out to the hallway. “Was that her car? The tire tracks? You have a working car and you didn’t tell us?” There was an ache in his voice, stemming from somewhere low in Jongdae’s gut.

Chanyeol looked at him. His hair was a little wavy at the tips, it was very pretty. But it was a lot less pretty when Chanyeol spoke next.

“It wasn’t hers. It belongs to a friend.”

Jongdae opened his mouth, and closed it again. He did this several times, and finally settled for asking, “Who?”

Chanyeol held his gaze and did not reply.

The tightness in Jongdae’s throat moved down to his chest. The world tilted off its axis, spun on nothing. Jongdae breathed in through his nostrils.

“You’re not going to ask?”

Jongdae’s mind conjured a memory. He had meant to confront Chanyeol about the car after lunch, but he’d looked to the parlor, where Baekhyun had curled up with the journal to do research. The book had fallen aside, and Baekhyun was playing with Toben instead. He’d looked up and caught Jongdae’s eyes, and a smile bloomed across his face, the one reserved specially for Jongdae, and it filled Jongdae up, leaving him full of warmth that had nothing to do with the late afternoon sun.

“No.” Jongdae said. He thought of the car, the road ahead, and thought, voiced aloud, “No, I won’t.”

The wood of the staircase creaked, and Jongdae became faintly aware that the tub faucet was running again. He hadn’t even noticed the girl walk past. He swiped over his eyes with the back of his hand, and Chanyeol’s grip fell to the side of his wrist, where his pulse hammered like he’d run a marathon.

Hollow footsteps came to rest at the top of the landing.

“Jongdae? Chanyeol?” A voice came. “What are you both doing here?”

It was Kyungsoo who stood there, looking back and forth between them, holding an armful of fresh towels. His gaze fell onto Chanyeol’s hand, wrapped around Jongdae’s wrist, and the way Jongdae was shivering.

Jongdae wrenched away.

“I was looking for Toben.” Jongdae said.

Raising an eyebrow, Kyungsoo stepped away from the stairs. “Toben is in the parlor downstairs, where he usually is.”

When Jongdae didn’t move, Kyungsoo advanced towards them, raising a hand to Jongdae’s arm, where Chanyeol’s had just left.

“I have to go.” Jongdae said, stumbling backwards before Kyungsoo could touch him. Without looking at either of them, he fled past Kyungsoo and down the stairs.

Toben was sitting in the armchair where Kyungsoo said he’d be, chewing on a toy.

“You weren’t here earlier.” Jongdae said accusingly. He felt like he’d walked through a snowstorm, chilled to the bone. He gathered Toben into his arms and held him close, curled up on the floor by the chair for several long moments.

Baekhyun was brushing his teeth in the bedroom, towel hanging around his neck. He lit up when Jongdae returned, disappearing into the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

“You found him! You’re the best, Jongdae.” Baekhyun said, flinging himself into bed with Toben in his arms. Jongdae got in beside him at a much slower pace. Mechanically, he lay down with his back towards Baekhyun and stared at the locked door.

“There were two moons tonight.” Baekhyun said, pressing his nose against Jongdae’s back, Toben squished between them. “I saw one in the marshes.” 

Baekhyun propped himself up when he received no response. There was a long silence, and the mattress shifted. Jongdae found himself with a dog on his thigh, and two arms wrapped around his middle.

“Goodnight, Jongdae.” Baekhyun whispered. “I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

Jongdae closed his eyes. Thoughts swam in his head, and they all had the bitter taste of guilt. 

☼

 Days later, Jongdae found their journal. He still saw Baekhyun working on it sometimes, lazily scribbling into the leather-bound book while humming the soundtracks of Kyungsoo’s dramas. Jongdae flipped it open, wondering if Baekhyun had made any progress with the new havens. Instead, he read five street names from the block outside their apartment building before letting the book fall shut.

“Baekhyun wanted to stay in the city.” Jongdae confessed, once he found Kyungsoo in the upstairs balcony. Kyungsoo was hammering loose planks of wood to broaden the platform with no regard for gravity, and could only spare Jongdae the back of his head. “He thinks I didn’t know, but I did. And I know I’ll have to leave here. _But I don’t want to_.”

 “You stay here.” Jongdae said, when Kyungsoo’s nape furrowed in sympathy. “Why can’t I? Why must I feel like this? If you can give up your entire career to live here with Chanyeol, why can’t I do the same with Baekhyun?”

“It isn’t the same.” Kyungsoo said, finally turning enough to spare Jongdae an ear.

Logically, Jongdae knew he was right. Even to him, Chanyeol’s hotel, however peaceful, felt only like the halfway point to a journey, unresolved. But while it wasn’t the paradise they were looking for, it was by far the best they’d found.

The window to the balcony slid open, and Chanyeol stuck his head out. “I thought I heard your voice. It’s hard to enjoy a bath when someone’s up here hammering things and another person is spilling feelings all over my roof.”

Jongdae threw a nail at him.

Chanyeol pushed himself up through the window. He was wearing a bathrobe and fluffy slippers, and the sight of him settling down beside Jongdae on the balcony was absurd. His fingers traced over Jongdae’s skin, leaving goosebumps in the flesh. Somehow his fingertips must have read into Jongdae’s very soul, for he said, “You can enjoy your stay here, you know. Even if you end up leaving.”

Helplessness flared in Jongdae’s chest, and Jongdae forgot all about wanting to laugh.

“I don’t have to go back. People go missing all the time during the apocalypse.” Jongdae insisted, fingers tightly squeezing around Chanyeol’s wrist. “My family will be okay. They have each other.”

Chanyeol’s eyes were unreadable. At the edge of the balcony, Kyungsoo put down his hammer.

“You can’t tell Baekhyun I said this.” Jongdae gasped, anxiety welling up inside him. His head darted back and forth between the both of them. “You can’t tell him any of this. I’m— I don’t mean it. I’ll go back. I promise.”

In a heartbeat, Kyungsoo crossed the balcony over to Jongdae’s side, so that Jongdae was trapped in the middle of them. Only he didn’t feel trapped. It felt nice. Chanyeol touched Jongdae’s cheek gently, and Jongdae was steered towards him before he knew what was happening. Oh. Were those tears? Chanyeol’s fingers were careful, tender.

“You don’t understand what it was like in the city. If someone was two minutes late getting home, I would think they were _dead_.” Jongdae said, words spilling out in a rush. The memory of that terror was still fresh, the bile that rose up within him whenever the clock moved out of hand. “And it was okay. It’s so funny to say this, but it was okay. All the worrying, all the fear, everything. I didn’t care, as long as it never happened. And then it happened.”

“Do you know that a vampire can suck a person dry in three seconds? Three seconds, Kyungsoo. I can’t do anything in three seconds. I couldn’t then, either.”

“It’s not your fault.” Chanyeol said.

Jongdae shook his head jerkily. “You don’t worry about much, do you, Chanyeollie?” He asked. “Do you keep in touch with your family? Do they come visit?”

Chanyeol’s expression shuttered. Kyungsoo touched Jongdae’s bare knee through the rips in his jeans.

“You don’t have to answer that.” Jongdae said. “Sorry. I know compared to a lot of people, I have it easy.”

“Your suffering doesn’t need to be stacked up against another’s to be valid. You have what you have.” Kyungsoo said, sharp.

“Sometimes I wish—” Jongdae stopped himself before he could say it. He didn’t finish the thought, but moved on to the next. “I wouldn’t have to worry any more.”

“How can I keep him safe.” Jongdae asked. “I only want him to be safe.”

“You can’t.” Kyungsoo said. He wasn’t being mean; it was the truth.

Jongdae knew this, and wished he didn’t. He refused to talk about the matter any more. They helped Kyungsoo hammer at the roof until Baekhyun came up to find out what was going on, and Chanyeol, with a crooked pat to Jongdae’s arm, retired to his attic.

The three of them sat up on the newly made roof with their feet dangling over the edge, watching the grand expanse of marshes spread out before them, like a kingdom made for four. Beyond the marshes, the dark blue waves picked up, indicating a coming storm. A gust of wind rattled the wooden planks, and Baekhyun scrambled back to the window, clinging to a large pipe.

Jongdae laughed, but if the house were to fall, his whole world would come crashing down with it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♡


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story requires some serious work, but instead I just cut out all the parts I was having trouble writing, my problem solving skills are A+.

The night a guest walked into the marshes in his bedroom slippers, the evening rain had been kind enough to allow them to have supper on the porch.  They leaned through the window for plates and cutlery, while Jongdae and Kyungsoo cooked the meat over an open fire. The smell of barbeque sat thick in the air, white smoke billowing off the porch.  Crows wandered up the steps, steady despite their flightless wings, and Chanyeol fed them nicked scraps of raw meat.

Jongdae slid down the armrest of the chair where he’d been half-perched, and made himself cozy in Baekhyun’s lap, popping a baked fry into his mouth.  The leftover taste of food was divine; beetroot and lemon and the sweetest bite of thyme.

The rain moved on, dark thunderclouds clustering far beyond their concern.  Had they still been out on the road, it would have been impossible to escape the storm unscathed.  But none of that mattered anymore. Being at Chanyeol’s was like living in their own perfect little world.

They retired to their bedroom after hours of lazing on the porch, sleepy from food and good company.  Chanyeol came by shortly after they’d both taken showers, and lingered at the doorway, wringing his hands back and forth.  “So, uh. We have a bit of a problem tonight. You both have a roommate coming.”

“You have guests?”  Baekhyun asked, nearly tumbling out of bed in his haste to face Chanyeol.  Jongdae’s heart did a backflip.

Chanyeol released his chewed-on bottom lip.  “Yeah, about that. I’m going to have to ask you to _not_ talk to him, or let him know you’re there.”

“Yeah, I can turn transparent at your bidding.  No problem. I’ll just disappear when he looks at me.”  Jongdae said, propping up on his elbows. “What are you talking about, Chanyeol?”

“Why can’t we talk to him?”  Baekhyun demanded.

Jongdae wrapped his arm around Baekhyun’s waist and yanked him back before he could send himself face-first off the bed.  Baekhyun lazily slotted into the space around Jongdae’s body, still jittering with excitement. “Where is he going to? Can he take us?”

“Shh.”  Jongdae said.  “You don’t even know him.”

“Give us one of the smaller rooms.  I don’t care if it’s a broom closet.”  Jongdae said to Chanyeol. “It’ll be easier than sharing a room with someone who _isn’t supposed to see us_.”

“Our broom closets are full of cleaning supplies.”  Chanyeol said with a sigh, as if it was some great disappointment that they were.

“I can’t believe you have a guest and you won’t let me talk to him.  We haven’t seen a single person the entire time we’ve been here.” Baekhyun said, and Jongdae determinedly stared at his hands.

“The other rooms aren’t suitable for guests.”  Chanyeol said. “And you’re not even a guest to begin with.  Really, it would be the easiest if you stayed where you were.”

☾

“This is the worst breach of privacy I’ve ever seen.”  Jongdae said twenty minutes later, shimmying under the bed, over the thin mattress Chanyeol had laid out for them.  “What the fuck, Chanyeol.”

“Look.”  Chanyeol said.  “It’s fine. It’s this kind old man, he’ll be asleep long before midnight, and it’ll be like having a room all to yourself.”

“Except we’ll be under the bed.”  Baekhyun said. He was already there, sandwiched between Jongdae and the wall, comforter pulled up to his chin.  Jongdae slid in beside him, and it felt surprisingly like sleeping in a proper bed. Any dust bunnies that lived there had clearly been cleaned out for Baekhyun and Jongdae’s stay.

“He’ll be here soon.”  Chanyeol said, kneeled on the floor.  He stood, wandering around the bed and tucking in stray corners so they’d stay out of sight. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe we’re helping your shady as fuck hotel business.”  Jongdae called to him.

“This is weird.”  Baekhyun said, scratching at the bottom of the mattress.  “I hope you don’t do this with your other guests. What if the entire time we’ve been staying here there’s been something under _our_ beds?”

He flopped onto his side, staring at Jongdae with wide eyes.

“Oh my god.”  Baekhyun said.  “I wish I hadn’t said that.”

Jongdae shook his head, squeezing the back of Baekhyun’s neck.  Baekhyun buried his face in Jongdae’s chest.

“I really wish I hadn’t says that.”  Baekhyun repeated.

“You’re fine.”  Chanyeol said. “Promise me you’ll stay beneath the bed and won’t come out until morning.  He mustn’t see you, okay?”

“We promise.”  They responded in unison, and Jongdae glimpsed the beginning of Chanyeol’s smile as he pulled away.

“Goodnight.”  He said. The door shut behind him, leaving them alone beneath the bed, waiting.

Their guest came in about half-an-hour later.  Chanyeol let him into the room, and Jongdae had a clear view of his neatly ironed pants and oxfords clacking against the floor.

“There are bedclothes in the wardrobe.”  Chanyeol said gently. “If you need anything, just ring for us.  I hope you have a peaceful stay.” There was the solid clank of Chanyeol setting the bell onto the bedside table, and Jongdae watched his feet as he left.

For the longest time, the man did nothing, standing by the dresser without a sound.  Eventually, he got ready for bed, and when he climbed in, the springs squeaked.

Pressed together, they waited for his breathing to even out.  It was raining outside, the noise soothing.

Minutes passed.  Ten, twenty. Jongdae hushed Baekhyun’s sleepy whimpering with the palm of his hand, curled up around him and somehow, fell asleep.

☾

Every so often, Jongdae dreamed that they were still on the road.  The sky was bloody and the leather smelled like rust, the grip of the knife in his hand sick and unfamiliar.  He dreamed of the journal, ripped to shreds, and opening every page to find it blank. He wakes up thinking he’s screaming, but Baekhyun was always fast asleep beside him.

He woke up under the bed, disoriented and lost, gasping for air.  Bedroom slippers paced back and forth beside him, and Jongdae squeezed deeper beneath the bed, struggling to keep his breathing level.

The old man’s nightgown swished around his ankles as he walked.  The room was dark, but Jongde could hear as he lifted his suitcase onto the small desk at the other end of the room, opening it with a soft click.

Jongdae shook his head, burying his face in the pillow.  The noise of rustling paper peeled at his skin, reminded him of the journal Baekhyun still kept writing in.  Baekhyun’s maps spilled off the page and onto the walls, _Jongdae, this is possible, look, where do you think this empty space leads, Jongdae— Baekhyun, stop, don’t—_

And the pages were empty.

The old man’s chair scratched against the floor, and fluffy slippers came back into Jongdae’s line of sight.  Jongdae couldn’t stop shaking, lead sinking into his stomach all the way up to his lungs.

Dim light poured into the room as the door opened, and the old man’s footsteps were noiseless as he left.  Within moments, Jongdae heard the telltale sound of the staircase creaking.

Jongdae sucked in a deep breath as the room swam in newfound light.  The tiniest speckles of light across Baekhyun’s face made it look like everything else was blackened with bruises, and suddenly Jongdae couldn’t hide any longer.

Heedless of Chanyeol’s warnings, he slipped out from beneath the bed and collapsed on the wooden floor, shoulders heaving.  He’d somehow knotted the top layer of bedding around himself, and it fell crumpled over him.  Cold air rushed in from all directions, the house shifting in anticipation for a storm.

Jongdae drifted, caught in an empty space between panic and absolute calm.  Lying on the floor, it felt like a year had gone by before he managed to tilt his head towards the open door, the fuzzy yellow light from the hallway creeping in.

The chimes in the porch were clanging once more, picking up in the wind.  For a minute, Jongdae heard their orchestra clearly, as though the front door had opened and shut.

“Where?”  Jongdae whispered quietly to himself.  “Where have you gone?”

The man’s suitcase sat on the desk still, and Jongdae could see its contents now.  Warily, he pushed off the ground and went to it. It was filled with nothing but paper, and when Jongdae flipped through them he was greeted with page after page of children’s drawings, crayon ones and painted ones and pencil ones.

Any moment now, Jongdae expected the man to return.  He’d gone for a smoke on the porch, perhaps. A breath of fresh air.

The vase of white welcome flowers on the dresser smelled sickeningly sweet.  For the first time since moving into the hotel, Jongdae struggled past the heavy floor-length curtains, making to open the windows.  Finally, he got his hands through the thick layers of velvet and silk. He yanked the heavy curtains aside, and found himself staring at nothing but a blank wall.

“Jongdae?”  Baekhyun whispered.  “What’s going on?”

Jongdae let the curtain fall shut.

“Nothing.”  He whispered in return.  “The man went for a walk.”

“Come back and cuddle.”  Baekhyun requested, hand outstretching from beneath the bed and making an eerie grabbing motion.  

Jongdae crawled back under the bed to join him, turning his back on the faded light in the hall.  He meant to wait for the man’s return, but the patter of rain continued, and presently, he slipped back into sleep.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of Toben’s frantic barking, the small sound carrying into the house through the walls.  

Jongdae peeked out from under the bed.  The old man was gone, but his suitcase was left in the exact same place he’d opened it yesterday, crayon pictures telling him the night before had not been a dream.  It was as if he’d walked off into the night in nothing but a nightgown, and for the life of him, Jongdae could not think why.

Jongdae shook Baekhyun awake, hurrying outside as Toben’s barking picked up into a howl.

Chanyeol stood on the front porch, shoulders hunched as he stared out at the front yard.  The ground was covered with feathers and tar, and every last one of the crows were gone.

☼

Despite, or perhaps of, everything going around him, Jongdae continued to take his rituals to the river.  He kept his hopes that the gods were listening, that sanctuary was still safe, and that the hotel at the end of the world would do them good.

Under Kyungsoo’s supervision, they’d spent an entire half-day scraping tar from the yard and burying it in the soft earth behind the house.  Chanyeol reappeared after lunch and helped Baekhyun dig, but for the rest of the day he said nothing unless asked directly.

It stacked up, these odd moments.  Everything was beginning to look like a badly pieced-together jigsaw, but as long as the picture was pretty enough, Jongdae didn’t want to look too closely at the parts that didn't fit.

It didn’t matter that during one of his baths, Jongdae had craned his neck to look at himself in the mirror, and found a long line of mottled bruises running all the way from his lower back to his shoulder.  They hadn’t hurt when Jongdae traced his finger down them. Jongdae had dressed himself in a clean set of pajamas and stepped out of the misted bathroom, and gone to join Baekhyun in bed.

Every so often Jongdae would hear a noise where there was none, walk into a room expecting to find Baekhyun, and found no one.  One night, he’d heard Chanyeol arguing with someone in the entryway; a conversation that had escalated into a screaming match which Baekhyun never seemed to hear.  Jongdae had locked their bedroom door and ignored the growing pit in his stomach.

None of it mattered, as long as Baekhyun was safe by Jongdae’s side.  His face filled in again with their constant meals, the scars on his skin fading with the weeks that went by, his hair bordering on almost-too-long, just the way Jongdae liked it.

“I hope you like pancakes.”  Kyungsoo said, passing Baekhyun a plate over his shoulder.  

Jongdae sat there at the table, staring back and forth between them.  Baekhyun reached for the syrup and cut a square for Jongdae, holding out the fork to Jongdae’s mouth.

Baekhyun hadn’t touched the journal in over a week, and Jongdae knew because he’d kept the book locked away in a desk on the fourth floor, beneath a crumpled pile of letters.  Baekhyun hadn’t even asked for it.

“I love you.”  Jongdae said, and Baekhyun’s eyes crinkled with joy.

Sunshine poured in through the kitchen window and rested across Jongdae’s shoulders.  The world was gentle around them. It was everything Jongdae had ever dreamed of.

But Jongdae had never prided himself on having a brilliant imagination.

☼

In the darkness of not-yet-morning, Jongdae slipped out of the bedroom, Baekhyun’s jacket wrapped around him for warmth.  Quietly, he crept down the stairs, avoiding the third rung that always creaked when stepped on, through the dripping purple hallway and out the front door.

He went past the net and down to the shrubbery, sand kicking up gently in welcome.  Time had not been kind; the lemon he’d lost was ripped apart at the base of a tree, what remained of its skin now a sickly brown tone.  Jongdae turned his gaze towards the forest.

The trees were thick and low, and Jongdae vanished beneath them, shrouding himself in the darkness of their shade.  Then the moon shifted, shards of moonlight cracking past the canopy to illuminate sandy floor, and Jongdae walked.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found the car.  He had no keys, but for a moment, he entertained the notion.  They would drive away, back into the marshes, drive until— well.  Drive.

Jongdae toed at the sand again, stalking into the reeds to sit at the very edge of the river.  It was so dark that Jongdae could walk into the water, by accident, just like this.

“I’d never do that to you.”  Jongdae whispered. But it wasn’t true.  He buried his face in his knees. They both knew Jongdae hadn’t left the city expecting to find a haven, only an escape.

Chanyeol’s hotel had been something unexpected.  A dream built on the edge of the marsh.  Jongdae had thought this was it— a home at the end of the world, in a tall hotel with a tiny dog.  But it was only a beautiful place where Jongdae, for awhile, could rest his head and breathe.

Jongdae could not live in this paradise.  It was like living in one of the snowglobes he’d found on the mantelpiece, a picture-perfect moment, frozen in time.

He wanted to know how Jongin was doing, what foolish new job Taemin had gotten himself into.  He missed Mongryong the First, original dog, and he missed Minseok. 

He missed Junmyeon.

He missed Baekhyun, the one who would follow Jongdae to the end of the earth in search for a salvation, but in the margins of the journal dreamed bigger dreams, believing a future could be built, not found.

A fish flopped dangerously close to land, and Jongdae got to his feet.  There was something bobbing back and forth in the water— a boat— one that wasn’t half-sunk or filled with creeping plants.

Jongdae climbed in, rocking beneath his weight.  He picked up the oar, giving it a cursory dip in the water, and the boat slipped through its little hiding spot, out into the open sea.

The water wasn’t very high, but it was high enough to go far.  The waves were choppy, and Jongdae wondered where the ocean would take him.  He could go across the river, find the next haven.  There’d been one close by, less than a week away.  There would be food, and water, and a roof over his head.  There would be— everything there already was at Chanyeol’s hotel.

Everything, and yet, not enough.

The boat bobbed merrily.  Jongdae drew his oar out of the water and curled up at the bottom of the boat, pulling Baekhyun’s jacket over his shoulders.  He lay there until the sun rose over the marshes, the water lit up around him in golden flames.

☼

By the time he made his way back to the hotel, the sun was high in the sky and Jongdae was exhausted.  Toben came running through the garden to greet him, and Jongdae leaned over to scratch his ears, heading for the front door with the dog winding circles around him.

Something didn’t feel right.  Jongdae expected to find the front door ajar, Baekhyun waiting on the porch while he munched on Jongdae’s portion of breakfast.  But the door was firmly shut, and despite the fact that the kitchen windows were open, curtains flapping in the wind, Jongdae could not hear an ounce of music.

Jongdae rang the bell.

Within moments, Baekhyun’s head peeked out, hands clenched into the jamb.  Jongdae felt his spirits automatically lighten, but when Baekhyun caught sight of Jongdae, his eyes went wide and he yanked back, slamming the door shut with such force that Chanyeol’s sign bounced off the glass and hit the floor.

A second later, the door was flung open again.  Jongdae didn’t have time to register the blur that lunged towards him before Baekhyun was breaking the wafer-thin sign over Jongdae’s head.

Jongdae fell backwards, more stunned than hurt, and Baekhyun crawled into his lap, trembling from head to toe.

“Baekhyun?  Hey, what’s going on?”  Jongdae asked, and the words came out strewn together in a helpless knot.  Kyungsoo appeared at the door, looking down at them, and Toben twined around his leg.

“Where were you?”  Baekhyun said, into Jongdae’s chest.

“I went for a walk.  I left you guys a note.”  Jongdae said, scanning Kyungsoo’s face with a sinking feeling.  Kyungsoo’s minute shake of his head had Jongdae scrambling to his feet, Baekhyun clinging to his side.

“I combed the whole walkway, calling your name.”  Baekhyun said with a muffled sniffle, and Jongdae stopped looking for the note, crouching down in front of Baekhyun’s huddled form.

“I didn’t hear you.  I was down the other side, by the ocean.”  Jongdae said. He’d dragged the boat back to where he found it, weaving it between the reeds once more.  He never heard anyone calling him, but how could he have, when he’d been drifting miles away. “I’m sorry, but we’ve gone out before— why is everyone so—”

Baekhyun tugged away from Jongdae, slumping backwards into Kyungsoo, who automatically moved to brace his weight.

“We found another deer on the edge of the compound.”  Kyungsoo said, tone even. “It looked like it had been dragged there.”

“You think I did it?”  Jongdae asked in disbelief.

“We thought you’d been dragged off with it!”  Baekhyun snapped. “I woke up and you were _gone_ , Jongdae.  You can’t— I didn’t follow you to the end of the earth for you to do this to me.  I thought— you’d at least tell me to my face, and I—”

Baekhyun smelled of soap, and Jongdae had to seek his hands out inside the sleeves of Chanyeol’s oversized sweater.

“I’m sorry.”  Jongdae said, collecting the tears that gathered in Baekhyun’s eyelashes, clumping them together.  “Don’t cry, Baekhyunnie. How could you think I’d gone? You know I’d never leave you.”

“Do I?”  Baekhyun asked, and Jongdae’s heart shattered at his feet.

“You can’t leave me.”  Baekhyun said hoarsely.  “When we came out here, you promised you’d look after me.”

His hands squeezed tightly around Jongdae’s, as if he were falling.  Jongdae cradled Baekhyun in his arms, taking his weight, and Kyungsoo gave him a hard, warning look, before leaving them by themselves.

Gently, Jongdae guided Baekhyun to the parlour, fixing the throw at the window-seat over Baekhyun’s shoulder.  Something soft and wet nudged against Jongdae’s foot and he flinched. A second later, he realized what it was and picked the puppy up, dropping him into Baekhyun’s arms.

“Toben will take care of you, won’t you, Tobennie?”  Jongdae said.

“I don’t want Toben.”  Baekhyun said, clutching the puppy tightly to his chest.  “You wouldn’t even let me name him Mongryong.”

“You can name him whatever you want.”  Jongdae said, brushing hair away from Baekhyun’s flushed forehead and kissing the pink skin there.  “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He paused.

“Actually, I can’t promise that.”  Jongdae said, and Baekhyun cracked open an eye to give him a level glare.  With a short laugh, Jongdae said, “Let’s go somewhere together. What do you think about going home?”

Baekhyun jerked up, tugging the throw tighter around his shoulders as he stared wide-eyed at Jongdae.

“What do you mean?”

“Home.”  Jongdae repeated.  At risk of it sounding like a bad pick-up line, he added, “The city.  Do you want to go home with me?”

“You want to go back to the city?  Our city?” Baekhyun asked, and it came out breathless.

Jongdae nodded.

“God, Jongdae.”  Baekhyun scooted close so that his legs rested over Jongdae’s thighs.  His warmth was reassuring, and Jongdae grappled for coherency. Baekhyun would follow him to the end of the earth with no explanation, had done so already, but he deserved more.  “It’s stupid.  I—I know we haven’t solved _anything_.  We were supposed to find a haven, and we’ve found the best remaining hotel on earth, but I don’t even want to stay. “

“Hey.  It isn’t stupid.  Not everything has to make sense if it feels right.”  Baekhyun murmured.

Jongdae shook his head, touching Baekhyun’s wrist with the tips of his fingers.  “I can’t believe I put you through all this if I was going to change my mind. We drove all the way out here and now we’ve got to find our way back.  I’m so sorry, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun cupped a cool hand against Jongdae’s cheek.  “I’m not. I came with you because I wanted to be with you.  When we left, I didn’t think I’d be returning with you at all.”

There was a pause as the words sunk in, and Jongdae didn’t have anything to say in return.  Baekhyun was right. The day that they left the city, it didn’t matter if they hadn’t found a haven; one way or another, Jongdae had been sure he’d never go back again.

“I thought we were going to die.”  Jongdae said. “I don’t know how you convinced me to take you along.”

Baekhyun smiled fondly, tracing over the bottom of Jongdae’s frown with the pad of his thumb, turning the corners upwards.  “You looked happier, whenever we talked about going outside, about keeping me safe. You let me come with you because you wanted to believe.  I wanted you to believe, too.”

“Don’t.”  Jongdae said, trying to swallow the lump caught in his throat.  He pulled Baekhyun towards him, and he was exactly the right weight in Jongdae’s arms.  

“Was it worth it?”  Jongdae asked, turning to look out the window.  He could see the netted fence where the deer had died, the swing hanging from the barren apple tree.  He could see some of the flowers he’d picked for Baekhyun’s bouquet, the bicycle tracks that they’d left in the dirt two days ago.

“Every second.”  Baekhyun promised.

Jongdae brushed their noses together, smiling.  “You know—”

The windows on the other end of the room flew open with a bang, sending a stained glass vase shattering against the wall.  They both jumped, and Baekhyun nearly tumbled to the floor.

“Will you fuck off for one minute here?”  Jongdae said, turning to glower over his shoulder at the mess.  “I’m trying to tell my most important person in the world that I love him.”

Baekhyun laughed, pinching him in the side.  His laughter was warm and good, it wrapped Jongdae up, Jongdae could live in it forever.

“I love you too, Jongdae.  Let's go home.”

☾

They broke the news to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo that same night, having dinner on the front deck like they had many nights before.  When they first met, Jongdae thought Kyungsoo looked harder than Chanyeol did, but his eyes had always been more expressive.  Kyungsoo played so many different roles on screen, but when it came to his own life, did not wear a mask, and as Jongdae finished speaking, he was unable to hide the flicker of relief that crossed his face.

“Did you not want us to stay?”  Jongdae asked miserably. “You could have told us.”

“We’d let you stay forever if we could, if we thought you wanted it.”  Chanyeol said. “But I think we both hoped you’d move on eventually. This isn’t your time  and place, Jongdae.”

A large breeze blew past, rattling their cutlery and the shaky wooden table.

“But is there a way?  Short of walking into the marshes and hoping for the best, I have no idea what to do.  I say ‘hey let’s go home’ like we can hop on the next bus out, but it took us nearly five months to get here in the first place.”

“It’s possible.”  Chanyeol said, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.  “You didn’t spend the whole five months trying to get here.”

Jongdae rolled his shoulders back, gazing squarely at Chanyeol.  “Maybe that friend of yours can lend us their car.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes flicked over to Chanyeol’s face, then back at Jongdae’s.

“Jongdae.”  Baekhyun interrupted, coming up the staircase.  He missed a step and caught himself on the railing, tipping forward in slow-motion.  Jongdae rushed to catch him, and Baekhyun sprawled at the top of the stairs, head lolling backwards limply.

“Baekhyun?”  Jongdae whispered.  “What’s wrong?”

Baekhyun raised his head, and his face was pale as a sheet, his cheeks an unnatural shade of blue as he shook in Jongdae’s arms.

Jongdae made to pull Baekhyun upright, but froze, staring down at himself instead.  The bruises that he’d carefully hidden beneath his shirt had spread, blooming in dark purples across the length of both arms.  He shifted his grip on Baekhyun’s body, and his palms came off a sticky black.

Toben whined, bolting into the house.  Jongdae watched him go, and the interior of the hotel looked like it was melting.  The roof was blotchy, made of water, spun of silk, folding inwards. Jongdae didn’t realize he was sinking until someone had caught him.

“It’s time.”  Kyungsoo said, from somewhere high above the tide.  “You can’t keep them any longer, Chanyeol.”

“I know.”  Chanyeol said.  “I had hoped, but it would have killed them.  And that wasn’t my choice to make.”

Jongdae tried to speak, and the only sound that came out was a broken whimper.  Kyungsoo shushed him, patting a hand over Jongdae’s forehead.

Before he knew it, he was being coaxed into bed, someone tucking heavy covers over him, his limbs pinned into place like a butterfly on a board.  Through his dimming vision, he caught sight of Chanyeol lowering Baekhyun into the bed, and Jongdae struggled to reach for him, arms no longer his own.

Kyungsoo sat at the edge of the bed, mattress dipping, and he pulled Jongdae’s arm around Baekhyun for him.  Jongdae heaved out a strangled breath, and Kyungsoo’s hand stopped over his back.

“Stay with them.”  Chanyeol said, and his vague outline shrunk in size, disappearing out the door.

“Where are you going?”  Jongdae croaked. “What’s happening?  Please don’t leave us.”

“We thought you’d move on sooner.  You weren’t meant to stay this long.”  Chanyeol said. Maybe he hadn’t gone away after all, for he was right there beside the bed once more.  

“What are you saying?”  Jongdae asked. His blood was freezing, his teeth chattering despite the blanket wrapped around him.  “What have you done? What did you do to us?”

“It isn’t me.”  Chanyeol said. There were three of him, swimming in and out of Jongdae’s vision, and all of them were somber.  “The marsh wants you back.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaahhhhh

“Add two tablespoons of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and let it sit for five minutes.”

“Baekhyun?”  Jongdae called hesitantly.

“No, I’m Junmyeon.”  Junmyeon said, sounding confused.  “Do you want to bake a cake or not?”

Jongdae’s stomach rumbled.  “What kind of cake?”

“Rice cake, I think.”  Junmyeon said. “I’m only putting in whatever’s left in the fridge.  It could be either chicken or rice. I’ll figure it out when I get to the end.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”  Jongdae said. “This is a really funny dream.”

“ _You’re_ a really funny dream.”  Junmyeon said, and the spatula in his hand dissolved into glitter.  Jongdae watched Junmyeon scoop it all up in his palms and pour it into the mixing bowl.

“It’s a disco cake now.”  Junmyeon decided, satisfied, and he climbed into the batter and disappeared.

Jongdae stared blankly at the flour-covered table as the mixing bowl began to ring.  It wasn’t a bowl, after all. It was a corded phone, but it wasn’t plugged into anything.  It continued to ring as Jongdae picked up Junmyeon’s baking tray and put it in the oven, setting the temperature to a hundred degrees.

When there was nothing left to do but wait, Jongdae lifted the receiver from the cradle.

“Hello?”

“Baekhyun asked for you again today.”  Jongin said conversationally on the other end of the phone.

“Jongin?”  Jongdae asked, incredulous.

“We went down to the beach the other day.  Baekhyun told us you guys went, too. You always wanted to see the beach.  I’m glad you were able to.”

Jongdae pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at it, as if he could see Jongin through the line.  Nothing happened, and Jongdae put the phone back to his ear.

“After what happened last year, I didn’t think you’d make it.  You woke up one day and showed so much interest in leaving the city.  It was nice to see, you know? We didn’t think you’d actually leave.” Jongin laughed, ragged.  “But you had Baekhyun. The both of you together have always managed the impossible.”

“I don’t know if you believe it, but— if we found the right place, we would have come back for you.”  Jongdae said, his voice the tiniest of sounds.

There had been so little chance of it happening that Jongdae had not bothered to voice it.  He would have gone back for all of them, but Jongdae hadn’t planned it that way.

Hollow, Jongdae recalled the day Baekhyun found his notes, the journal and a one-way trip planned for a single person, and uprooting all of Jongdae’s plans.  Which, in retrospect, had been none save the insistent need to leave the stifling poison of the thick city smoke.

The silence dragged on for a painfully long time.  Jongdae’s head was spinning, and his heart hurt.

Jongin let out a small exhale.  “After the wedding, I lost a brother.  And it wasn’t Junmyeon.”

“Jongdae,”  He said quietly.  “Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

☾

Jongdae had never been up to the attic.  By some unspoken agreement, they’d stayed out of both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s private floors, wandering the floors in between instead.  It was only logical, showing respect to the quarters that had not extended invitation.

Climbing the stairs now and going farther than he’d ever been, Jongdae expected to see the house continue the same way it had before.  Cluttered furniture, cabinets full of trinkets, and paintings all over the walls. For all Jongdae knew, there could have been a swimming pool, a chapel, or an elephant, any number of things that would have felt right at home in the strange hotel.

What he did not expect to find was that the floors were completely empty.

The door to every room was open, leading to bare rooms with plain white walls and the palest of hickory floorboards.  There was no furniture, no paintings, and absolutely nothing to indicate that a person lived up here. The wood was worn down, the paint on the wall uneven.  Someone had lived here once, but they were long gone.

“Kyungsoo?”  Jongdae called hesitantly.

He’d woken to find a glass of water and a note beside the bed.  Baekhyun had still been fast asleep, too-warm against Jongdae’s skin, and Jongdae had peeled the blankets back to let him breathe.

“I’m upstairs!”  Kyungsoo’s voice returned.  Jongdae backtracked, retreating to the corridor.  There was a narrow door he had missed, the same colour as the walls and only wide enough to be a storage closet.

He put his hand against the wood and the door creaked open.

Jongdae jumped back, the tea he’d made for Baekhyun spilling onto his sleeve.  It opened to a narrow staircase, just like the one he had found in the fireplace during his early days at the hotel.

“Come on up.”  Kyungsoo called.

The staircase led up to a small circular room, glass windows around it like a watchtower or lighthouse.  Kyungsoo sat on the floor at the center of the room, glasses perched on his nose, one palm folded across his jaw.  He had Chanyeol’s guestbook splayed open in front of him, loose sheets of paper coming apart at the seam.

Jongdae ventured closer, teacup in hand.

“I got your note.”

“Sit for a moment.”  Kyungsoo requested, clearing his throat.  His voice sounded rusty. Jongdae crouched on the floor across from Kyungsoo and slid the teacup over.  Kyungsoo looked like he needed it.

“How are you feeling?”  Kyungsoo asked.

Jongdae hadn’t bothered to _feel_ , quite frankly.  When he woke there had been a pervasive numbness settled over both his senses and mind, and Jongdae had not wanted to look past it.

He gave a vague shake of his head in response.  Gesturing at the guestbook, he commented, “Chanyeol never did write our names down.”

Kyungsoo closed the book, rustling the pages together.  “Like Chanyeol said, we thought you weren’t going to stay long.”

Jongdae managed a weak smile.  “Really? After all the times I tried to sabotage my own escape?  You thought I didn’t want to stay?”

Kyungsoo responded with a crooked grin of his own.

“You said you wanted to talk to me?”  Jongdae asked. It was two in the morning, and the house had been uncharacteristically quiet, no creaking of odd boards or scraping of furniture against the floor.

Kyungsoo nodded, getting to his feet.  He went over to one of the windows and pushed it open, the freezing night air billowing into the room.  Out on the ocean, over a dozen specks of light bobbed across the water, tiny boats making their way across to the other side.

“Now that you’ve decided to leave, you will find that the options are not as limited as you thought they were.  There are boats that carry our guests across the river throughout the night, and I’ve no doubt you will be offered a ride.  That jacket that Baekhyun wears— I believe there are enough coins in there for your passage. It’s not the city, but you could be happy there.”

“Jongdae, when you get this offer,”  Kyungsoo said seriously, “I don’t want you to take it.”

“What do you mean?”  Jongdae asked, frowning.  “What’s on the other side?  Is there actually a haven?”

“In a sense.”  Kyungsoo said.  He pulled the window shut in Jongdae’s face.  Jongdae stared as the warmth of the room misted up the glass, and the boats became nothing but yellow blurs.

Kyungsoo stepped away from the window, going back to the floor, where the guestbook laid.  He flipped it open absently, without looking, and traced his fingers down the names.

“People come here from all around the world, looking for paradise.  They bring some of their most important possessions, belongings they have loved throughout their lives.”

His finger came to rest over the column to the right of the guest list, and Jongdae read:  photograph, pocket-watch, engagement band. Jongdae tilted his head. He thought of the countless rooms filled with beloved treasures, the wedding dress, the paintings, the letters, the tapes.

“But they leave it behind.  Why do they do that?”

Sitting on the floor with Jongdae across from him, Kyungsoo finally met Jongdae’s eyes.  “The funny thing about a safe space at the edge of the world, is that it requires a very precise degree of balance.  Every entrance and exit requires an exchange of great value, otherwise you’re liable to tip at any moment. You’ve been falling for a very long time, Jongdae.”

“What did I bring?”  Jongdae asked. The journal.  The seashell. The necklace Baekhyun got him for their first anniversary.  Jongdae could give them all up, albeit some easier than the others.

Kyungsoo looked at Jongdae for a long moment.

“You brought Baekhyun.  Or, at least, part of him.”

Jongdae recoiled.  Tea spilled over the rim of the teacup.

“What do you mean I brought Baekhyun?  What do you mean a _part of him_?”  Jongdae demanded.  He couldn’t. Not Baekhyun, no.

“When you walked into the marshes, Sehun said he thought you were alone, at first.  He said you were talking to yourself, but it wasn’t that strange.”

“Sehun.”  Jongdae said.  Something about the name sounded familiar, but it didn’t spark a memory.

“Sehun guides people through the marshes.”  Kyungsoo said. “Most of the time, they have a map, and the fee.  You had nothing, he said. And then one night, you had Baekhyun.”

Jongdae stared at Kyungsoo, the night outside the windows seeming darker than usual.  He caught sight of his reflection in the glass, shocked and drawn.

“No.”  He said.  “I don’t understand.”

“Most people bring objects.  Mementos to remind them of the people they loved.  You came here with nothing, Jongdae. You weren’t supposed to be here at all.”

“And yet,”  Kyungsoo said, “you came through the marshes with a boy you’d conjured out of thin air, and appeared at our doorstep.”

“What do you mean out of thin air?”  Jongdae demanded. “He’s not— and I won’t leave him.  You’re mad. I’ll die before I leave him behind.”

“He isn’t your Baekhyun.”  Kyungsoo said calmly. “You made him out of your own memories and hopes, nothing more.  It won’t hurt him to leave him behind.”

“I don’t believe you.  He’s so—if you’re telling the truth— you can’t be,”  Jongdae said haltingly, “where is _my_ Baekhyun?”

Kyungsoo shook his head.  “Baekhyun never stepped foot into the marshes.  You came here alone.”

Jongdae backed against the nearest wall, tucking his knees to his chest and dropping his head into them.  Baekhyun, with his fluffy hair that never grew out, content with syrupy waffles and the company of frogs. Baekhyun, never noticing the strange going-ons of the hotel, conveniently never being around when Jongdae didn’t want him to be.  Baekhyun, who only wanted kisses and never cried, and always sang all of Jongdae’s favourite songs.

Jongdae inhaled too quickly, and crumpled into himself, the gaping emptiness in his lungs spreading like wildfire into his chest, his throat.  Jongdae buried his face into his arms.

“Jongdae.”  Kyungsoo pressed, and a warm body settled against side.  “Promise me you won’t get on a boat.”

“Then how do I find him?”  Jongdae asked, raising his head and managing nothing more than a rasp.  “You can’t just tell me something like this, and expect me to know what to do— please, Kyungsoo—“

“We’re not supposed to meddle, Chanyeol and I.  Chanyeol, even more than I am, is bound to obey the laws of the marshes.  Keeping you here as an unregistered guest for this long had enough repercussions as it was.”

Watching Kyungsoo’s expression, Jongdae spoke aloud as the thoughts came to him, “Repercussions?  Everything that’s been happening around the marshes, was it our fault then? The deer? The crows?  Was it because of us?”

“The marsh has to claim something.”  Kyungsoo said. “We could only keep you safe for so long without giving it something to take in return.”

Jongdae let out a slow exhale, teeth digging into his lower lip.  “I’m sorry.  You’ve put up with a lot to keep us here.  The both of you. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble.”  Kyungsoo said gently. “And for now, I can tell you is that you do know the way.  You have all the information you need, you just have to put the pieces together.”

Jongdae looked around the circle room, and down at the guestbook.  He wondered if his name would be written there once he left, and next to it, under things left behind, _Baekhyun_.

“It’s getting late, Jongdae.  You should go back to your room.”

Reluctantly, Jongdae retreated down the stairs, stopping by the kitchen to put the kettle on again.  He stood in the kitchen, clutching the empty mug to his chest and staring at the blue-yellow backsplash without really seeing it.

He was pouring the hot water into a mug when he heard a sound in the dining room.  Prepared to face whatever it was head-on, Jongdae stalked in.

He stopped.

Chanyeol was sitting at the walnut table, only his silhouette drawn against the moonlight.  His back was turned towards Jongdae, head tilted towards the light.

“You’re back.”  Jongdae said. “What are you— why are you sitting here in the dark?”

“Please don’t turn on the lights.”  Chanyeol said, and Jongdae’s hand froze over the switch.

“Goodnight, Jongdae.”

Something about the tight set of Chanyeol’s shoulders made Jongdae’s heart pang.  He took a few steps towards the table, and set the freshly brewed mug of tea down in Chanyeol’s shadow.

“Goodnight.”  He murmured in reply.  Retreating to the kitchen, he poured one last cup of tea and brought it back to the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Baekhyun stirred when Jongdae entered, and Jongdae slumped down at the foot of the bed, staring him up and down.

God, his imagination was such a dick.  Was it necessary to remember every last detail of Baekhyun’s face, to conjure the soft pinkness of his cheeks and the way his hair curled at the ends when he slept?  Baekhyun looked horrifyingly beautiful even at the height of his sickness, and Jongdae’s stomach turned.

It was because he wasn’t real.

How did real-Baekhyun look, was he lying somewhere, gaunt and lifeless while Jongdae had cuddled his imaginary friend to sleep.  Had he been searching for Jongdae all this while, lost and weary and desperate.

Jongdae hoped he was, because the alternative was too terrible to bear.

“You know then.”  Not-Baekhyun said.

“I got you tea.”  Jongdae said instead, and held the cup out to Not-Baekhyun’s lips.  Between the both of their unsteady hands, at least half a mouthful spilled across the blankets, but neither of them paid any attention.

“I’m sorry.”  Not-Baekhyun whispered.  “You don’t have to be nice to me.  Baekhyun won’t ever know.”

“Don’t you dare think I’d ever.”  Jongdae snapped, and the emotion that had been welling up inside him cracked.

“Oh, Jongdae.”  Baekhyun said, and when he reached out, Jongdae crawled into the bed and buried his face against the very familiar chest.  And even though this Baekhyun wasn’t his, he knew all of Jongdae’s weak spots, and in a moment had Jongdae reduced to putty with a single hand.

They stayed like that for a very long time, until Not-Baekhyun’s hands stopped moving and Jongdae’s eyes were dry once more.

And in the darkness of not-yet morning, just like the old man in the nightgown and all the people who had come by before him, Jongdae crept out the bedroom, down the stairs, and far, far away from his happily ever after.

☼

The radio was playing again, low music filling the air of the otherwise silent kitchen.  Jongdae wiped his hands down across the front of his sunflower apron, checking the time on the kitchen clock.

On cue, the front door opened.  Jongdae tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and waited.  It didn’t take long before both pairs of footsteps arrived at the kitchen, drawn by the smell of freshly baked goods.

Jongdae gave a small smile.

“I thought you left.”  Chanyeol said.

“I made you guys pie.”  Jongdae said. “I wanted to stay long enough to say goodbye.”

Kyungsoo returned the smile, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the back of a chair.  Chanyeol’s face was tight, eyes scanning Jongdae up and down. For someone bound to the laws of the marshes, Chanyeol had sure done many things in Jongdae’s favour.

With a measured breath, Jongdae crossed the tiny kitchen and stepped up to Chanyeol, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol.  Chanyeol stiffened, terse, and Jongdae pressed his face into Chanyeol’s chest, breathing in the smell of firewood and salt.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”  He whispered. “I know it didn’t always look like it, but I really enjoyed my stay.”

Chanyeol exhaled, seeming to shrink all at once with the air leaving his body.  His arms came to rest gently across Jongdae’s back, and Jongdae melted in relief.

“I’m glad, truly.”  Chanyeol murmured back.  “I enjoyed your stay too.  I’m happy I was able to meet you, Jongdae.  I know you were looking for a haven, I’m only sorry we couldn’t be that for you.”

“You’ve been enough.”  Jongdae corrected, leaning into the warm hug for several more beats.  He had found peace here, even though it hadn’t been forever. And now, Jongdae’s puzzle had crumbled, but in the pieces he had found that maybe he should have been building something different all along.

At last, he pulled away, reaching past Chanyeol to take one of the remaining apples in his hand.

He wished, for a moment, that he could stay.  Have one final meal in the cozy kitchen and leave with the taste of cinnamon on his tongue.  But the moment passed, and Jongdae was at the beginning of everything once more, a road ahead of him full of promise, and Jongdae wanted to _go_.

“Just in case I get hungry.”  Jongdae explained, of the apple.

A presence came up behind him, Kyungsoo.  “It won’t take you longer than an apple.” Kyungsoo said, but slipped another one in the left pocket of Jongdae’s jacket.  Chanyeol’s face was warm with feeling, and Jongdae couldn’t help it: brazenly, he tiptoed to kiss the side of Chanyeol’s cheek.

“Take care.”  He murmured, catching Chanyeol’s genuine smile before drawing away.

Kyungsoo walked with him down the stone slabs, beyond the garden and netted fence.  Jongdae had so many words on the tip of his tongue, but in the end said none of them.  He brushed his hand against Kyungsoo’s, and smiled back when Kyungsoo did.

A small number of crows had returned to the garden, gathered together in some semblance of an early morning summit.  They stood in formation behind Jongdae and Kyungsoo, curiously following them as Jongdae took the bicycle out from beneath the house and wheeled it up to the path.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle.  Jongdae dragged the hood of Baekhyun’s jacket over his head, staring at the distant water with Kyungsoo by his side.  Jongdae could barely hear the river over the sound of the crickets and birds.

The threads around the sleeve of Kyungsoo’s sweater had come loose.  Jongdae plucked one of them, without thinking, and Kyungsoo cuffed him in the back of the neck.  Instead of pain, came a comforting squeeze.

“Is this it?”  Jongdae asked. He’d taken this road over a dozen times on this bicycle, but it was the first time he’d ever done it alone.

“This is it.”  Kyungsoo said. “Good luck.”

“I’m not very lucky.”

Kyungsoo laughed, loud and clear.

“Oh, you are, Kim Jongdae.  You are.”

?☼

The waterlogged soil gave beneath Jongdae’s tires, attempting to sink him, collect him.  With the hood over his head, Jongdae could see only ahead of him, focused on a nowhere point in the distance.  The rips in his jeans let him jump at every brush of a cattail against his bare skin, cold, wet and unexpected.

“Jesus.”  Jongdae startled; a cormorant slinked past in the shallow water, flat on its belly.

Baekhyun would like it.  Baekhyun liked all the odd things they found in the marshes.

Jongdae threw the hood back and inhaled.  The air was cool and sharp, his mind clearer than it had ever been.  Jongdae raised his head, looking up at the cloudy grey sky. Tiny droplets of rain fell around him, but nothing seemed to touch.

The marshes were beautiful.  Dreary, vast but so impossibly promising.  Despite the weather and decaying plants, the soils were rich, an ecosystem of thriving opposites.  Jongdae captured the image in his mind, the long, muddy paths, the small, waning tides, the fog creeping through the grasses.

For a time, Jongdae too, had been happy here.

“Jongdae.”  Said a plaintive voice by his feet, seeking attention.  “Jongdae, Jongdae, I love you.”

“Hey.”  Jongdae said with a laugh.  He crouched down beside the frog, still calling his name in a croaking imitation of Baekhyun’s voice.  With the sleeve of his jacket, he urged the frog towards the direction of the house.

“Go back and keep Chanyeol company, yeah?”  He called after it. “Don’t get eaten.”

He watched it go until it leaped into a pond, still swimming strongly back towards the house.  Jongdae wondered what Kyungsoo would think of this strange creature, with Baekhyun’s voice and a limited vocabulary of Jongdae’s name.  At least they wouldn’t be forgotten, Jongdae thought with a smile.

Maybe Kyungsoo would like to keep it by the kitchen window.  It could listen to the wireless.

Jongdae turned his head back to the road ahead.  In the distance, there hung a strange moon-like thing, bobbing in the sky.  Jongdae swept the nonexistent raindrops from his hair and continued cycling.

At the end of the road, the path forked into two, snaking like tongues and disappearing into the mist.

“I thought you might be here.”  Jongdae said. He got off the bicycle, parting the reeds.  A large marble goddess sat at the very middle of both paths, rivers parting at her feet.  The lantern bobbed in the sky by her shoulder, swaying softly heedless of the wind’s direction.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you not to talk to strangers you find in the wild night?”

“Not that specifically, no.”  Jongdae said. Digging into his pocket, he inched to the edge of the dry land and held out the apple.  “Care for a fruit?”

The boy took the apple and dropped it through the open neck of his jacket, and the inside of his clothes rustled contentedly.

“What do you want?  Don’t you have a boat to catch?”

“I thought I’d walk.  It’s a nice day for a stroll.”

The boy squinted at Jongdae suspiciously, and his lantern jerked on the string.  There were four moons, Jongdae thought, if you counted the reflections in the water.

“You helped us, at the very beginning.  I just need one more favor.” Jongdae said.  It could well be the last favor Jongdae ever asked of anyone.  It would be good to be prudent.

“I don’t really care if you get lost.”  The boy said. “The last few people are still wandering the marshes.  When you know what to look for, it’s a lively place, here.”

“I read in a book once,”  Jongdae began, “at every impossible road, there is a god with an answer.”

“Well, pick your deity.”  The boy said, finally uncurling from the base of the statue and climbing out of the rushes.  He unzipped his raincoat, and a white dog tumbled out, apple core falling to the muddy ground.  The dog pawed at Jongdae’s ankles, and he produced the remaining fruit, breaking it apart with his fingernails.

“I’d rather have someone who can talk back.”  Jongdae said. “Can I ask you my question?”

The boy watched Jongdae feed his dog.

“I don’t like riddles.”  He said. “You’ll have to be clear.”

“My question is plenty clear.”  The boy turned to him, expectant.  His eyes did not change. It was one of those moments in life where Jongdae felt the entire world hinged upon him.  He took in a deep breath, knowing the words formed of it would have terrifying significance.

“You’re Oh Sehun, aren’t you?”  Jongdae asked.

The boy’s face furrowed.  The dog stopped crunching on Jongdae’s apple and retreated, and the boy— Sehun, backed into the reeds, half hidden by the rustling grass.

“I have the letter you wrote in my pocket.”  Jongdae said, unfolding it just enough so Sehun could recognize his own handwriting.  The lilac paper crumpled beneath his thumb, and Jongdae smoothed it out again.

“I could take your letter back with me.”  Jongdae said. “I’ll make sure it gets delivered.”

“I wrote a lot of letters, when I first came.  It was a long time ago. They don’t matter any more.”  Sehun said defiantly, but his hands were trembling.

“You are a child.”  Jongdae said. “They would have forgiven you.”

“I may very well be older than you are.”  Sehun countered. His dog begged to be picked up, and Sehun crouched to the wet earth instead, tucking his face into the white fur.

“What’s your dog’s name?”  Jongdae asked. He considered it a small victory when Sehun didn’t pull back, allowing him to stroke behind the soft ears of the puppy.

“You can’t have two questions.”  Sehun said.

“You didn’t answer my first.”  Jongdae reminded him. “But I didn’t need an answer for that, did I?”

Patiently, he tucked his arms around his knees and waited.  His skin was frozen beneath Baekhyun’s— Sehun’s— jacket, overcome with terror and exhilaration.

“You’re an asshole.”  Sehun said, pulling the dog into his arms.  He was drowning in his large raincoat, and his boots squelched wetly against the ground when he walked.  “I didn’t write that letter for you to read.”

“I’m sorry.”  Jongdae said. “But if I hadn’t, no one else would be reading it either.  Sehun? I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that, right?”

Sehun stopped, standing at a narrow prong of the forked path.  The other path lay clear. Jongdae gazed at it for a long time, and turned back to look at Sehun.

“His name is Vivi.”  Sehun’s voice was thick, and he wouldn’t meet Jongdae’s eyes.

“Thank you, Sehun.”

“Just go.”  Sehun said.

The reeds swayed gently along the pathway.  The night air was cold, but even the drizzling had stopped.  Jongdae climbed back onto his bicycle, rode into the fog and didn’t look back.

☾?☾☾

The car was parked in the middle of a vast mudflat, its headlights cutting sharply through the darkness.  The lights blinded him, making it hard to see, and Jongdae hardly believed his eyes. It was their car. The one they’d driven into the marshes and left behind, weeks and impossible weeks ago.  It looked like the same place they’d left it in, even though there was no way Jongdae could have made the week-long trip in a matter of hours.

One of the doors was wide open, and Jongdae was running for it before his brain could catch up.  It could have been anything in the battered vehicle.  It’d been over a month. But Jongdae was far from coherent thought.  All he could think of was Baekhyun as he ran for the open door.

The door was rusted, collapsing from the hinges of the body with a groan as Jongdae touched it, but Jongdae didn’t spare it a second glance.  There was someone inside, head having tilted forward limply when the door fell. Jongdae was begging, made of pure desperation, as he climbed into the driver’s seat and gathered Baekhyun in his arms.

“Oh fuck, Baekhyunnie, please— please—”  Pain set in Jongdae’s bones, exploding deep in his chest.  He buried his face in Baekhyun’s hair, and braced himself for the end.

Somewhere in the recesses of Jongdae’s mind, he had a picture:  before the wedding, the both of them shaking with laughter as Jongdae tried to inspect the five-tier wedding cake and scraped icing sugar all over his nose instead.  If that was the memory Jongdae would take with him when he went, he’d be grateful for it.

It came so slowly Jongdae didn’t register it at first: something not quite the end, rather, a tiny pulse beneath Jongdae’s thumb.  Jongdae uncurled slowly, feeling the small stutter under his waiting hands, and the relief that threaded through his veins was sweeter than all that sugar ever was.

Baekhyun opened his eyes.

“Wake up, Jongdae.”  Baekhyun’s voice said.  Or, it should have been Baekhyun, but it sounded like himself.  It could have been either of them. He was dissolving in Jongdae’s arms, and Jongdae struggled to cling on.

“Please wake up.”  That same disembodied voice said.  When Jongdae looked down, Baekhyun was gone, the car was gone, and Jongdae was standing alone in the darkness.  Around his feet, the river was rising, water pouring into him through the holes in his skin.

“You can’t have me.”  Jongdae said, breaking into a sprint.  “I’m going home.”

The waters rose and swallowed him whole.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Something heavy was pressed against his arm.  A bird flew past the window, chirping as it went by.  As the noise of flapping wings faded, Jongdae could hear the soft sound of distant chatter coming through the walls.

He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.  There were baby blue curtains drawn around his bed, and when he looked down, he found someone asleep by the side of his bed, his arm held tightly in the person’s grip.  Jongdae’s arm was numb from the weight.

He tried to slide his hand out.

The person stirred, raising his head slowly to look at Jongdae.  Sleepy lids went wide at the sight of Jongdae, and Jongdae’s stomach lurched.

“Jongin?”

Jongin pulled Jongdae’s hand to his chest, practically clambering onto the bed with how close he tried to get.

“You’re awake.  Oh my god. Jongdae, you’re awake.”

Jongin’s tight hug squeezed all the air out of Jongdae’s lungs.  Jongdae hugged back, bewildered. He’d thought about Jongin so many times over the past few months, and seeing him alive and well was overwhelming.

“What’s going on?” His throat felt parched, and Jongin’s touch set off little sparks of pain all over his skin, when his racing thoughts slowed enough to take stock of his body.

“Wait— wait, Jongin, I don’t understand.  Where are we?”

Jongin pulled back, swiping tears from his eyes.  “At the hospital. Hold on, I’ll get the doctor.”

Jongdae grabbed Jongin’s wrist before he could leave.

“The city hospital?”  He choked out, glancing frantically around at the nondescript curtains.  If he strained, he could hear the bustle of the city outside, but it was soon drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears.

“Where’s Baekhyun?”  Jongdae croaked.

The curtains parted slightly, and Jongin’s frame shielded whoever it was coming in.  They switched places, Jongin leaving through the part in the curtains, and Baekhyun stopped at the foot of Jongdae’s bed.

“Missed me?”  Baekhyun asked with a wink.

Jongdae shook his head.  “You’re here. You’re okay.”  Jongdae said, reaching out for him.

“If by okay you mean alive.”  Baekhyun said, coming close to let Jongdae touch.  His smile seemed impossibly bright. “Which, to be fair, is pretty impressive for two people who stumbled into a den of _skins_.”

Baekhyun’s hands met his, and he stepped forward, shoving Jongdae’s legs aside.

“Move over.”  Baekhyun said, climbing into the bed.  “Yixing says I can’t stand for too long.”

There were bandages wrapped around Baekhyun’s neck, and the side of his left jaw was speckled purple with bruises.  Jongdae touched the injury softly. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside him.

“You’re real.”  Jongdae said, pinching Baekhyun’s skin with his fingers.  He was bruised and battered, nothing like Jongdae would have imagined him.  The fresh bandage that crossed over his collarbones looked painful, and without meaning to, Jongdae wished it away.  He took it back in the next second, heart clenching, _don’t, he’s mine, I’ll take us the way we are right now—_

Jongdae shifted aside so Baekhyun could sit beside him.  Facing one another, they sat with their knees touching, and Jongdae reached over to rest his hand over Baekhyun’s thigh.

“What happened?”  He asked. “We were— did I leave you in the car?  Where have you been all this while?”

 _While I dreamed you_ , Jongdae’s brain supplied.   _While I dreamed the both of us away._

“What do you remember?  Do you remember #H3?” Baekhyun asked.

“The den?”  Jongdae asked.  He couldn’t forget the lodge if he tried.  The peaceful forest, with human footprints that they’d followed, so hopefully.  The way Baekhyun’s blood slicked the kitchen floor afterwards, and Jongdae wasn’t sure if he’d be able to piece him back together again.

“You went… Jongdae, I’d never seen you fight like that before.”  Baekhyun said. “And after that, I thought you’d never wake up again.  I didn’t know what to do.”

Furrowing his brows in confusion, Jongdae drew Baekhyun close in a half-hug, trying to soothe him.  Something felt amiss in the story.

“I remember the skins.”  Jongdae said uncertainly.  “But that was a long time ago.  You really don’t remember the marshes?  The hotel? Where were you this whole time?”

“The doctor says you might have hit your head.”  Baekhyun murmured. His smile wavered, and Jongdae reached out to squeeze his fingers.

“No, please.  Just tell me. How did we get back here?  We didn’t talk about coming back until— the hotel.  But you weren’t…?”

“I drove us back.”  Baekhyun said, his hands shaking.  “I made the call. I drove us home.  I’m sorry, I knew you didn’t want to come back here, but you were _dying_ , Jongdae.”

“What do you mean _I_ was dying?”  Jongdae asked.

“Sorry, but were you unconscious for the past six weeks because you were in perfectly good health?”  Baekhyun asked, voice rising. “When I found you, I couldn’t even tell if you’d been turned. You wouldn’t wake up, and there I was, alone, in a den of skins with my insides hanging around on my outside and my best friend bleeding to death and you think ‘we’re perfectly fine, it’s just an afternoon nap—’”

“Your what?”  Jongdae interrupted, reaching his hand underneath Baekhyun’s shirt.  Baekhyun batted his hand away.

“Please listen.”  Baekhyun said, and Jongdae’s jaw snapped shut.

“I drove us home.  It took me a month.”  Baekhyun said, taking a deep breath.  “I finally managed to call Minseok, and Jongin and Taemin met me a week outside the city limits.  I— I know you didn’t want Jongin to leave, I’m sorry. I didn’t ask him to come. I’d have tried my best, but it was so hard.”

“I don’t understand.”  Jongdae said, unable to keep silent.  “We made it beyond the den. We made it at least a week past the dens— and I didn’t— I fixed you.  I patched you up.”

“I patched myself up!”  Baekhyun shouted, tears filling his eyes.  He pushed off the bed, stumbling a little but catching himself on the metal frame.  “I fixed myself, and then I fixed you, and then I drove us back here.”

“You _what_.”  Jongdae said, and suddenly his eyes were just as full of tears as Baekhyun’s.  A month spent driving alone, thinking Jongdae could die. Not knowing if Jongdae would turn, but falling asleep curled up beside Jongdae, taking the risk that Jongdae could kill him in the night.  Whether or not it was real, Jongdae, more than anyone, knew how powerful the imagination could be.

“I’m going to get the doctor.”  Baekhyun said, turning away. His shoulders were shaking, and Jongdae couldn’t let him go.

“Don’t leave!”  Jongdae said, almost throwing himself off the side of the bed in his haste to grab Baekhyun.

Jongdae pressed his nose against Baekhyun’s back, feeling keenly the tremors of his shuddering frame.  With a palm pressed to Baekhyun’s side, he urged Baekhyun back to bed, remembering that he could very well be just as injured or worse than Jongdae was.

“Did you really not remember?  Not even a bit?” Baekhyun asked, shaky.  “I talked to you every single day. Junmyeon— nevermind.”

For Jongdae had tensed, hand gone still, tangled in Baekhyun’s hair.

“It’s okay.”  Jongdae said at last, resuming the soft stroking.  Eventually Baekhyun drooped limply against Jongdae’s pillow, eyes shut.

“I have to ask.”  Jongdae said, touching Baekhyun’s cool cheek.  “There was no hotel? No… Kyungsoo?”

“Kyungsoo?”  Baekhyun asked, eyes shooting open.  It was cute how he still perked up at the mention of Kyungsoo’s name.  But there was no recognition there, only the distant worship of a beloved idol.

“No, it’s okay.”  Jongdae said. “There’s no Kyungsoo here.  You can go to sleep.”

Even with his mind whirring, Jongdae was exhausted enough to fall into a light doze, crammed together with Baekhyun on the hospital bed.  He was seconds away from slumber when his eyes shot open, focusing on his backpack sitting beside the bed.

Baekhyun groaned quietly when Jongdae leaned over to take the bag.

“Sorry, go to sleep.”  Jongdae said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Baekhyun’s neck.  “I just need my arm back, okay?”

Baekhyun rolled over obediently, mushing his face into Jongdae’s side.

Jongdae’s backpack was ripped at the seams, layers of questionable stains piled atop one another.  Gingerly, he pulled the zipper down and began taking things out. He emptied the contents of the bag onto the blanket, but the journal, leather stained with blood and filled to the brim with writing, was gone.

Their entire treasury of research, completely lost.  What was once so important to him, left behind somewhere on a journey that may never have happened.

Someone had sorted through his things and put the loose items into a clear bag.  Jongdae looked through the odd collection of items, a handful of coins, the broken end of a keychain, an oddly-shaped pebble and a fountain pen.

Jongdae dug through the bag again, peeling out each item from its compartment, tossing it aside.  Baekhyun whimpered when Jongdae accidentally smothered him with a dirty rag, and Jongdae patted his arm with a soft apology.

Shaking, Jongdae slid out of bed, legs utterly uncoordinated beneath him.  His old jacket hung from an armchair at the side of the room, and he lunged for it, nearly tearing the battered leather to shreds while searching.

The pockets were empty.

Jongdae barely managed to stagger back to the bed before collapsing beside Baekhyun.

“You won’t believe what happened while you were asleep.”  Baekhyun mumbled, snuggling up to Jongdae’s chest. His breath was warm, ticklish.  Jongdae buried his face in Baekhyun’s hair, blinking as his eyes began to smart with hot tears once more.

“Try me.”  Jongdae mustered, as evenly as he could.

Wriggling away so there was some semblance of space between them, Baekhyun brandished a thick brown envelope from somewhere amongst his clothes.

“A doctor got them signed for me.”  Baekhyun said, shaking the envelope open, and at least a dozen cards spilled onto the blanket between them.

Kyungsoo’s forehead gleamed up at Jongdae from the first picture.  There was a signature at the bottom, while Baekhyun’s name decorated the top of the card.  The ink was shiny and thick when Jongdae ran his thumb over it.

Every last one of the cards were signed in some way.  Kyungsoo had drawn hearts beside Baekhyun’s name, or things like tiny puppies with dots for eyes, strawberry waffles.

“Kyungsoo is so weird.”  Baekhyun said, smiling at a stick drawing of what looked like a frog on stilts.  “I love him.”

Something crinkled beneath Jongdae’s fingers, thinner to the touch than the photocards had been.  He looked down.

It was a folded letter, lilac paper turning brown at the edges.

“I didn’t notice that before.  What is it?” Baekhyun said, only half-attentive, still staring at Kyungsoo’s face in awe.

Jongdae parted the corners of the paper with his thumb, just enough to see the handwriting inside it.

“Who got these for you?”  Jongdae asked, his nerves a battle of confusion and relief, feeling as though he’d fallen head-first into an unexpectedly cold bath.

“Doctor Park.”  Baekhyun said, and the bathwater turned downright freezing.  “He only ever came when I was really sick. I heard his voice though, he sounded nice.  I think Yixing must have told him about my photocards.”

“Can you believe it?”  Baekhyun asked, when Jongdae remained silent.  “It’s not even that he got them for me as a dying wish, or anything.  Here I am, fine and well, and I have _signed Do Kyungsoo photocards_.”

“I’m so happy you’re okay, Jongdae.”  Baekhyun said, curling back into Jongdae’s chest.  “I’m sorry leaving the city didn’t work out.”

Jongdae pulled Baekhyun close, finally letting his eyes slip shut.  He kept his arm wound tightly around Baekhyun, and the tremor in his fingertips finally slowed to a stop.  As long as they woke up together, together they could figure out the rest. “I think everything worked out just fine, Baekhyun.”  He mumbled.

☼

The house had a long driveway, yellow daisies dotting the path.  The old mailbox Jongdae broke on his last visit was upright again, this time closer to the house than it had been before.  Jongdae thought he’d never see this house again.

“Hey.”  Junmyeon said.  He stood at the doorway, holding a wet dishrag in his hands.  His sleeves were rolled up, like he’d been doing the dishes, and Jongdae looked at him, the scars running down his arms and the icy blue of his veins.

Jongdae hadn’t told anyone he was coming, save Jongin, who promised to keep Baekhyun occupied and then looked at Jongdae with such unbridled joy that Jongdae had to close the door on him.

Junmyeon’s mouth parted slightly, open, close, a goldfish singing soprano.  For a long time, Jongdae blamed himself for Junmyeon’s death, but he was the same as he’d always been, only his blood ran a little colder.

“May I come in?”  Jongdae asked, and Junmyeon led him up the steps.

☾

“Today, on _We Got Married! Skin Edition_ , we have our lovely couple, Hyojin and Sungmi, say hello to the camera—”  The television died off in the middle of a close-up of the newlyweds, and Jongdae looked over from the kitchen, where he’d been making instant brownie in a mug.

With one or both of them awake every other night from nightmares, they’d caught up on a lot of late night television.  Jongin, asleep in the next room with half a million puppies, usually found them in the morning, curled together under Jongdae’s childhood quilt.

Today they lasted until five in the morning, Jongdae only giving up on sleep after having shot awake for the third time due to a nightmare.  The first two had been Baekhyun’s, and only an hour had passed before Jongdae woke with a start from his own, a dream that hadn’t felt like a dream at all.

Sometimes, Jongdae woke up in the darkened room thinking he was still dreaming, and nothing Baekhyun said or did could convince him that the world wouldn’t disappear when he closed his eyes.

It had taken Baekhyun turning over for the twentieth time, fingernails digging into the healing bruises across Jongdae’s back and nearly drawing blood, before Jongdae kicked the blankets off the bed and sat up.  Mongryong the First shuffled forward, greedily flopping his limbs out over the warm space Jongdae left behind.

“Silly dog.”  Baekhyun said, turning Mongryong over to tickle his stomach.

“Just like his owner.”  Jongdae agreed, and Baekhyun refused to hold his hand on the way to the living room.

The television made a valiant attempt to splutter on again, but with the microwave running, its effort was fruitless.  Electricity was scarce, but everyone wasted it on things like entertainment and comfort anyway. After all, the world had been ending for a long time now.

Jongdae took his mug from the microwave and returned to the couch, sliding under the quilt beside Baekhyun.  Baekhyun dug his chin into Jongdae’s thigh, opening his mouth for a bite of food. Jongdae ran his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, tracing the shell of his ear gently.  There was a scar behind his ear that made Jongdae queasy to think about, but Jongdae dipped his head down to kiss it.

The television failed to resurrect itself, and Baekhyun drifted off in Jongdae’s lap, still shuddering occasionally, as if startled.  Jongdae fed him bites of warm chocolate brownie, cuddling him close and repeatedly fussing at the blanket around them both.

“Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”  Jongdae asked, once the mug was empty and put aside.

“Pied Piper and the Three Bears?”  Baekhyun asked drowsily. He turned his head to Jongdae’s face and promptly sat up, eyes combing Jongdae’s serious expression.  “This isn’t a children’s story, is it?”

Jongdae shook his head, silently meeting Bekhyun’s eyes.  He fixed the blanket again, but not because it needed any fixing.  His fingers felt clumsy, and the blanket slipped off Baekhyun’s back.

“Is this about the people you went to visit the other day?  I found the letter, you know. You think I don’t remember the combination to our own safe?”  Baekhyun said, reaching up to touch Jongdae’s face. Jongdae was trying to keep calm, but against his skin, Baekhyun’s hand trembled, the result of their gentle collision.

“You worry me.”  Baekhyun said softly.  “You never tell me about your nightmares.”

When Jongdae didn’t speak, Baekhyun rested his palm against the tense line of Jongdae’s back.

“I’ve been waiting.  For you to feel better.  For me to feel better.” Jongdae said finally.

“Is that now?  Are you better?”  Baekhyun asked.

“I think we both are.”  Jongdae said honestly, and even the small action of voicing it aloud made it ring true.  “But it’s a long story. It might not make any sense. It may not even be real. Will you listen anyway?”

Baekhyun let out a quiet laugh.  “Wow, you’re really selling this, aren’t you.  I want to hear it, Jongdae. I get the feeling it’s going to be one hell of a tale.”

Jongdae settled back against the couch and took Baekhyun’s hands in his, slotting their fingers together perfectly.  Despite everything, he found a smile creeping onto his face. “You have no idea."  

And outside the apartment window, over the city, the sun rose to a new day.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. This fic. A million times i told myself, stop writing after chapter one, but i couldn't, and spent a small eternity trying to wrestle the fic into some form of logical progression. Thank you so much if you made it with me to the end, I hope you found something to enjoy of the ride!


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